


Best Laid Plans

by MdeCarabas



Series: Best Laid Plans [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation, Romance, Sexual Humor, implied childhood abuse/neglect, mild acephobia, mild sexual harassment, reference to abortions, unprotected oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MdeCarabas/pseuds/MdeCarabas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker has a foolproof plan to get himself into the ultimate threesome. Too bad no one's cooperating with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Tucker gets the best fucking idea of his life approximately five seconds after getting hit by a car.

Wash sighs about it when Tucker tells him later. “I think they must have given you something stronger than Tylenol 3,” he says drily, which kind of sounds like he’s saying that Tucker’d have to be high to suggest it, even though that’s way more of an insult to Wash than to him.

He ignores that for now, choosing to focus on the most important thing instead. “I’m just saying, dude, the sex would be _awesome_. I’m totally a sex god and Kai can do things with her tongue that have to be illegal in at least a couple of states. We’d blow your mind. Heh, and other things.”

“I’m sure you would,” Wash says agreeably. He probably thinks he’s being subtle, but it’s pretty fucking clear that he’s only humoring Tucker. He’s got that same tone in his voice he has whenever talking to Caboose.

It’s not a good sign.

Tucker frowns and plots his next move. He could always fake a cramp in his thigh and ask Wash to give him a massage, but that probably won’t go down all that well. Wash has never appreciated his pickup lines, even when they’re aimed at other people. Something like that would never work on someone like him.

“How’s your leg doing?”

Tucker opens his eyes and blinks up at the ceiling. For a moment the whole world feels a little bit off. He can’t remember shutting his eyes and he struggles to figure out how long it’s been since he drifted off. It could’ve been seconds or minutes or even hours. Wash would’ve stayed there either way.

“Tucker?”

“It still hurts a little,” Tucker admits. Not as bad as it did before, but it’s always there in the back of his mind. He tries to distract himself with other things: the sound of cars rushing by in the distance, the little kid crying for his mom down the street; anything but the bruises all over his body and the constant dull ache of a broken bone. “I was trying not to think about it. Thanks a lot, asshole.”

And then, in the dumbest possible display of revenge ever, Tucker kicks at Washington with his one good leg. The pain that shoots through him is both piercing and immediate, leaving him spewing curses and flailing as much as he can without moving his lower half. When he finally comes back to himself, it’s to the sound of a low chuckle of amusement at his total agony and the sight of that superior smile that always makes him want to push Wash to the floor and straddle his face.

Washington’s lips curl up in amusement. “I could’ve told you that was a bad idea. For your own sake, I suggest you keep the fighting to a minimum.”

“Yeah, thanks for the fucking memo,” Tucker snaps back. He fumes for a moment, scowling down at the stupid cast. “What the fuck, I thought the pills were supposed to stop this bullshit!” Or at least cut it down so he doesn’t have to be worried about moving.

Wash rolls his eyes, looking distinctly unimpressed even as he leans over Tucker to pluck a few pillows from Kai’s side of the bed. “Stop whining. You can take another pill in fifteen minutes. Until then--” and here he gently lifts Tucker’s leg and places it on top of the stack, “You really should be keeping it elevated.”

No, he really _should be_ taking his second dose, but Washington won’t exactly let him do that, now will he? What an asshole. But he’s still the asshole who practically flew across town when he heard Tucker had been hit by a car and made everything better just by existing. Wash just zipped in and took care of everything the second he showed up, talking to doctors and filling out forms while Tucker was still struggling to think through his pounding headache. He didn’t have to worry about a single thing, which is pretty much the reason he made the hospital call Wash in the first place.

That and...well, _fuck_ , he had just been hit by a fucking car, and all he could think of when he was blinking back tears in the middle of the road was how much he wished that Kai or Wash was there to hold his hand and tell him he’d be okay. Or, to be a little more accurate, for Wash to tell him it would be okay and for Kai to make him laugh and turn him on by telling him all the naughty nurse scenarios she was sure to have planned. But instead of saying any of that out loud, he motions for Wash to sit next to him on the bed.

“Thanks for driving me home from the hospital or whatever,” Tucker mutters under his breath when Wash settles down at his side. He glances out of the corner of his eye and catches him just in time to see the small smile that quickly disappears.

“It was no problem,” Washington replies. He hesitates for a moment, fiddling with the ratty blanket Tucker uses when Kai steals all the covers. When he smiles, he doesn’t bother hiding it, just turns to Tucker with this weird, charming kind of nervousness, and carefully says, “I’m just glad you called.”

It’s so unexpectedly earnest that it short-circuits his brain, or maybe the doctors were wrong and he has a concussion after all. There’s no other explanation for why Tucker’s brain chooses to say what it does next.

“I’m pretty sure that blanket’s covered in come.”

Tucker feels his cheeks grow warm. “I’m not saying it’s still wet or anything,” he says quickly, “But she’s kind of a squirter and we were in a rush getting out this morning, so there’s probably a whole bunch of stains on it you probably don’t want to be touching, and--”

He doesn’t really know where he was going with that, but Washington’s face is frozen with horror and it’s making him reconsider finishing the sentence. “Uh, maybe I should stop talking now,” Tucker finishes sheepishly.

Wash has to swallow hard before he can speak again. "I think that would be for the best," he says in a strained voice, fingers twitching helplessly in the air. He looks like he's trying to remember how to breathe. At this rate he'll be out the door in no time--and sure enough, the next thing he says is, "I think it's time for me to leave."

_Fuck._

In a last ditch effort to get the plan back on track, Tucker lets his instincts take over. "Wait, you can't go," he blurts out suddenly. Wash pauses as he backs up and waits for Tucker to continue. "Uh, yeah, 'cause I'm still pretty hurt, but I think I know a way you can help me with the pain. It involves another kind of oral medication--"

Wash throws himself off the bed before Tucker can even finish the sentence, flinging himself across the room to hover by the window. "Y-Yup," Wash says in a high pitched voice, "It's definitely time for me to leave."

"No, fuck, you should definitely stay," Tucker replies, mind scrambling to figure out a way to fix this, "Come on, what if I fall down trying to go to the bathroom or something? I'll have to go to the hospital again, it'll be totally stupid."

That at least gets Wash to pause, even if it's only for a heartbeat, but then he shakes his head in denial and puts an end to that excuse. "Your girlfriend should be here any minute. I'm sure you can handle things until she gets home."

"Yeah, I handle things all the time when she's not home," Tucker says, openly leering--and then quickly stopping, because there's no point in sharing the joke when Washington is already stalking through the door. "Whoa, okay, I guess he wasn't in the mood."

Maybe it's time to think up a new plan.

 

* * *

 

Wash proves that he was right about the timing, because Kai walks through the door less than fifteen minutes later, stalking into the bedroom like she’s on a mission and taking one long look at him before carefully climbing up to straddle his lap. She kisses him long and sweet, taking her time with it, nipping gently at his lower lip when his hands slip under her shirt without thinking.

There’s an impish curve to her lips as she pulls away from his hands, bed creaking as she whips off her shirt and lets her bra follow, baring her breasts to his eager eyes and lips and letting him bury himself in all that silky smooth skin.

Much later, long after the comfort of her touch proves no match for the pain in his leg, she curls up beside him on the bed and strokes him as they wait for the pills to kick in completely. It’s more of a distraction than anything else, but her hand rubbing against the front of his shorts effortlessly chases away the last of the pain.

“Hey, so you know how we’ve had threesomes before?” Tucker begins cautiously. Kai nods against him, chin poking hard against chest as she peers up at him, already looking more than a little intrigued. “Yeah, so I was thinking...maybe we could try with Wash?”

Kai turns to look at him and makes a face, nose scrunching up in this over-exaggerated pouty way that makes him want to lean over and kiss her. He’s kinda got the wrong angle for it though, so he settles for rubbing a hand against her hair.

"Gross," she replies, "I don't sleep with cops."

Which is the biggest fucking lie he’s ever heard since Caboose told everyone he was born on the moon. “You have _totally_ fucked cops before,” he says accusingly, “You told me that’s why you never got tickets when you were in college.”

"Pshh, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I sleep with narcs."

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’ve done that too,” Tucker says, trailing off into a strangled gasp when she squeezes tight around him in warning. “Oh shit, if that’s supposed to be a punishment, I’m never gonna shut up.”

And he means it too, because there are only six things in the entire world that Tucker loves about her more than he loves her hand on his dick.

The sweet, sweet, taste of her cunt when he goes down on her. The heat of her mouth wrapped tight around him when she takes him all the way down. The way she opens up for him in the early morning, thighs slipping lazily apart at his touch, so slick from anticipation that he can slide in without a hint of friction.

And the other things too, like the way she laughs when she watches trashy daytime television, cheering loudly whenever people get into fights. The way looks she when she wears that dumpy old sweater she stole from Grif that makes her look about twelve years old. The way she always, always manages to spill sauce on herself whenever they go out for pasta.

Maybe that’s not romantic or whatever, or how other people think his list should look, but he loves those things about her the same way he loves the steady strength of Washington’s hands and absolutely everything to do with Junior. He loves those things with everything he has and he knows that she feels the exact same way about him.

As if to prove it, she gives up on jerking him off through his fabric and shoves her way inside, the beautiful relief of skin on skin making Tucker hiss with pleasure. “Fuck,” he moans instantly, fingers clenching in her hair to keep himself from thrusting up. "Oh fuck, that's good!”

She snickers proudly at all the noise he’s making.

He swallows hard in response, glad for the endorphins running through his body that keeps the tension in thighs from ruining their night. Weird as it sounds, he’s actually glad that Wash turned him down tonight, because Wash would’ve talked himself out of anything interesting the minute Tucker showed the tiniest glimmer of anything like pain.

And now he finally remembers what he was trying to say before she started doing the awesome girlfriend thing. “Wash,” he gasps, then winces when her hand falters on his dick, because he knows how that sounds. “No, wait--I mean, Wash isn’t a narc. So you could fuck him if you want.”

She glances up at him with a puzzled look on her face, clearly debating whether or not she actually cares enough to ask what the hell he’s talking about. But apparently the answer to that question is no, because she ducks her head down without a single question and swirls her tongue over the slit in his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbles frantically, “Fuck, never mind, we can talk about it later.”

Good thing he never expected to convince them this soon.

 

* * *

 

The thing about him and Kai sharing an apartment is that they both kind of suck at being a functional adult. They’re always blowing their money on something stupid or forgetting to pay the rent or bills, and they have literally gone for months at a time without buying food that wasn’t delivered to their door.

So really, he probably should’ve seen this one coming.

Tucker shrugs and presses speed-dial number two on his phone.

Washington sighs when Tucker tells him what he needs. “Well, Lavernius,” he says drily, “I can’t say I’m surprised to hear the news. Not after opening your fridge last summer and seeing nothing but take-out containers and beer.

“Don’t be a dick,” Tucker says in exasperation. He carefully props his foot up on top of the coffee table, watching in boredom as an empty beer can gets knocked to the floor. “Look, can you bring me over some food or not? No one delivers anything good at eight on a friday morning.”

Wash sighs again, which is how Tucker knows that he’s won.

“Cool,” Tucker says smugly, “See you in twenty.”

In the end it’s more forty-five minutes, but it hardly seems like any time at all once he starts harassing Wash via his phone. By the time Wash puts his key in the lock and walks inside, he and Tucker have traded thirteen passive-aggressive messages and eight more that were outright insults.

Tucker’s a little taken aback once he sees all the bags.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he says in disbelief, “I just wanted you to buy my breakfast.” And maybe hang out with him for a couple of hours so he wouldn’t be bored, not that he had any ulterior motives. “I didn’t ask you to go shopping for me.”

“If I didn’t buy them today, you’d be bothering me again tomorrow,” Washington points out as he walks over to the kitchenette and dumps the bags onto the counter, “And frankly, I have better things to do with my time than run errands for you on my day off.”

“Uh-huh,” Tucker replies, “So did you get me Captain Crunch, or what?” The rustle of the grocery bags are his only reply, and Tucker sits straight up when he realizes. “Holy shit, you totally did! And I didn’t have to ask you or anything.”

Wash sends him a warning look. “It’s just cereal. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Yeah, just cereal. Sure, whatever. It’s not like he purposely got Tucker’s favorite or anything. It’s not like he knew Tucker’s favorite in the first place, even though no one else cares about stupid stuff like that.

Tucker snickers. “You are so into me.”

Wash breathes in sharply through his nose. His eyes narrow to a squint as he glares at Tucker over the counter, but instead of saying all the insulting things he clearly wants to say, he just turns around and starts putting the groceries away.

Tucker leans back into the couch and smiles up at the ceiling, feeling a rush of contentment run through his veins. He can tell already that it’s gonna be a good day. First Kai woke him up with an early morning blow-job, then he got to talk to Junior before he had to go to school, and now Wash is here to sit with Tucker and watch shitty daytime television all day long. It’s a nice enough thought that he drifts for a little bit, and when he finally tunes back into the conversation, Wash is saying something about garbage bags and showers.

“...I assumed that if it never occurred to either of you to buy food, then you probably didn’t have anything for your cast.”

Which is bullshit, because they totally have garbage bags. They need something to put their takeout in when they’re done. They’re kind of small though, and probably too small to use for unless he tapes a few together. “I could definitely use a shower,” he admits, “I probably still smell like all that sex I had last night.”

Washington doesn’t reply. There’s no snarky comment about how that’s nothing new, no joke about broken bones not slowing him down for a second. There’s just...nothing. Nothing at all. Even the faint rustle of the plastic bags stop and go quiet.

Tucker glances over the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen, but everything there seems normal as far as he can see--not that he can see much, what with Wash having his back to the living room as he puts a stack of frozen pizzas away. Still, something about the whole situation feels subtly off, so he borrows a page from Kai’s book and decides to get a little dramatic about things.

“Ugh,” Tucker groans loudly. He hunches over and clutches at his stomach, listing into the arm of the chair like he can’t sit up straight, “Dude, did you forget why I asked you to come over in the first place? I thought you were gonna get me something to eat.”

Just like that, the moment is shot and that strange tension leaves the air as fast it arrived. When Tucker peeks over in his direction, he sees Washington shaking his head in either amusement or annoyance. Amusement, probably, because when Wash turns around again, he looks like he’s hiding a smile. “And I suppose you want the cereal, don’t you?” Wash asks rhetorically, already grabbing a bowl from the sink.

Well, he didn’t really care before Wash said anything, but that actually sounds pretty good. “Oh hell yeah,” he says enthusiastically, “And one of the pizzas too. No, two of the pizzas! I need lots of calcium, right?”

Wash rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a convenient excuse.”

It is. That’s what makes it so awesome.

Washington looks like he wants to argue the point further, but he must hear the loud growl of Tucker’s stomach begging for food, because he makes the cereal as fast as he can and thrusts it over as soon as he’s close enough. Tucker grabs for it with greedy hands, diving into it with a speed that rivals Grif on a bad day. He only half notices Wash sitting beside him, ninety-nine percent of his attention focused on filling that gnawing ache he’s been ignoring all morning. When he’s done, not a trace of sugary-sweet milk remains.

“Hey, thanks,” Tucker says gratefully, patting his stomach in satisfaction. He turns to face Wash, feeling a happy twist in his chest when he sees that arched eyebrow mocking him silently. “I needed the sugar to get my strength back after last night’s workout. Heh. If you know what I mean.”

That muscle in Wash’s jaw twitches in that way it does when he’s struggling to figure out what to say or how to react. It’s a familiar look--he wears it every time Kai says something outrageous--and it’s usually a prelude to heavy sarcasm and judgmental looks.

Call him bitchy and moody, but Tucker’s not in the mood for either.

“Hey, I got thrown over the roof of a car and only walked away with a broken bone and a bunch of bruises,” he snaps in sudden frustration, leg throbbing at the reminder, “So I’m gonna have all the comfort sex that I can get.”

Wash flinches and jerks back into the arm of the couch at the reminder, going pale as death before his eyes. It highlights the dark freckles that speckle his cheeks. Tucker’s always liked those freckles. He likes to run his fingers over them whenever he gets drunk, watching with heavy eyes as a flush rises up to hide them from sight.

He thought about those freckles when he was lying in the middle of the street, stunned silent by the hit to his head and half convinced that he was going to die. He thought about those freckles and he thought about that flush, but most of all he thought about that night Kai got wasted and whispered that she wanted to taste them.

The memory drains all his anger away and leaves him with an empty feeling and a sullenness that he doesn’t completely understand. He stares down at the cast that covers his lower leg and pushes back at the competing flashes of sirens from the ambulance and music from that night in the bar.

He can’t remember why he was upset in the first place.

Washington scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m not surprised that she wanted to keep you close after what happened,” he says roughly, voice almost too low to make out. He sounds tired--more tired than he has in a very long time--and his eyes are older and more solemn than anyone his age should have.

Tucker startles at the confession.

“And I’m not surprised that you wanted to be close to her.”

“She wanted to make me feel better,” Tucker mutters as he watches Wash out of the corner of his eye. There’s a wave of something crashing over him that turns his voice sharper than he’d like; defensiveness, maybe, or possibly guilt. “And it _worked_. It was fun, we banged all night long. Never slept better.”

“I didn't ask,” Wash says tightly. He looks away for a long moment, eyes squeezing shut in pain. They’re blazing when he opens them again, openly daring Tucker to call him on his bullshit. “What you do with your girlfriend is none of my business.”

It could be your business, Tucker thinks wistfully. But he can’t say that, not now, not when Wash looks ready to break apart. Not when Tucker still has the taste of metal in his mouth. Not when he barely got started on Kai.

“Yeah, I know,” Tucker says instead. He puts a smile on his face--it’s wavery, but still there--and nudges Washington in the side, smile turning into an honest grin at the disgruntled expression he gets in return. “Hey, speaking of, you should stick around today and keep me company. She’s not gonna be back ‘til late.”

Washington inches away like he has some kind of disease. It doesn’t make a spike of hurt go through him at all. No, really. He feels just fine. And even if he doesn’t, his grin is kept firmly on his face, which is all he needs.

He shrugs and doesn’t meet Wash’s eyes. “Yeah, there’s like some work thing she has going on,” he explains easily, “That’s why she was out of the city yesterday. They’ve been keeping her overtime all month long. It’s cool, though, she’s gonna get a break after this weekend.”

Wash was looking at him in suspicion when he first began the explanation, but somewhere around the middle his face clears in understanding. “And you think you’ll need a hand while she’s busy setting up for the party this evening.”

Tucker opens his mouth to crack a joke about how Wash can give him a hand any day of the week, but then it finally clicks in his brain what he just heard. "Wait,” he says slowly, “How do you know what she's doing tonight?"

Wash rolls his eyes the way he does when he thinks that someone is being an idiot but doesn’t feel like actually telling them so. It’s a very distinctive look. “She's been complaining for weeks about how much she hates that woman," he points out, "I can’t imagine there's anyone left who doesn’t know how glad she'll be to see the back of her."

And yeah, that would totally make sense--if it weren’t for the fact that it’s total bullshit. This isn’t one of those parties she goes to because she feels like having fun, this is one of those parties she has to go to because she’s a party planner and it’s her job. She almost never talks about that stuff unless she’s talking to him or Donut.

Except...okay, there was that one time a while ago when Kai called him up in the middle of the night, frustrated and fuming and inches away from tears, practically begging him to pick her up...

Well, he had pretty much panicked. There was this visceral _fuck no_ feeling that ran through his veins and pushed him into motion and he was off the couch before he even thought about getting up. He had no way of getting to her or fixing things and no spare money to call for a cab because he and Kai had spent the last of it on hot pockets and booze.

So he did the next best thing: he ran ten blocks in the pouring rain and showed up on the doorstep of the one guy who has always been there for him when he really needed it, no matter how stupid or inconvenient it might be. He doesn’t even remember what he said. He doubts it made sense--he was too fumbling and frantic and tired for it to be coherent--but none of that mattered at all because Wash took one look at Tucker’s face and grabbed his keys, driving hours in the pouring rain to get Tucker to where Kai was.

It was the first time he had ever seen her cry.

At first he thought it was the car that was making her so upset. Having that old clunker die out on you on a creepy back road in the middle of the night would freak anyone out, especially if they were alone and it was raining. It would’ve made sense if that’s what was wrong. But as soon as he saw her swigging from a bottle of champagne she stole from work, he knew it was something else entirely.

He sat with her in the back of Wash’s car, catching her whenever a turn on the road made her sway against him way more than it should. The alcohol had made her tired and growly, and she spent the whole ride home ranting about some asshole client who was making them change everything overnight for the third time that year.

He kissed her hair and murmured nonsense into her ear and felt more helpless than he ever had in his life, but it was Washington who had looked destroyed. It was like for the first time since they met, he was forced to see her as an actual person and not the party-girl caricature he saw her as before.

But that wasn't weeks ago. It was nearly four months.

“Dude,” Tucker breathes, “You actually remember all that?”

Wash can tell that he's been caught in a lie because he goes pink all the way to his ears. He clears his throat, caught out and uncomfortable by it, and says as casually as he can, “You woke me up at two in the morning the day of my recertification exam. Of course I remember.”

A re-certification exam.

Wash never said a word to either of them about it at the time; not a lecture or a rant or a single solitary complaint to either of them about the possibility that their tiny emergency could’ve screwed him over. He never said a thing.

_Huh._

For the first time since he started this whole scheme, Tucker actually thinks it might have a chance.

 

* * *

 

He tries to bring it up with Kai later that night as they sprawl out on the couch after ordering takeout. The tv’s on, but neither are watching it; Tucker because he’s too busy trying to figure out a game plan and Kai because she’s too busy texting friends.

“Hey, Kai? Why don’t you like Wash, anyway?”

Kai glances up from her phone and wrinkles her nose like the answer is obvious. “Umm, ‘cause he’s a _cop_? And he’s really lame? And he made me cancel the fire dancers for your birthday because apparently they’re a fire hazard in an apartment.”

“Uh, yeaaah,” Tucker says, because holy shit. Most of her party-making decisions are amazing, but every now and then she has the dumbest ideas. “That would’ve been cool and all, but I’m pretty sure he made the right call.”

She scowls at him and says, “Whatever.”

“I’m just saying, the landlord would’ve been pissed and it would’ve sucked if we had to move again,” Tucker says defensively. This is the best place they’ve ever lived in. They’re smack dab in the middle of a guy who works nights and a ninety-three year who never puts in her hearing aid. This is the only place they’ve lived in that didn’t hit them with noise complaints.

“I said whatever, bitch,” Kai says irritably.

Tucker rolls his eyes and lets her go back to tapping at her phone. Thirty seconds later his own phone chimes and he’s got a pretty good feeling he knows what happened. “Seriously? Are you really bitching about me on twitter again?”

She smirks at him and he glares right back, already digging his phone out of the couch cushions in order to see what she said about him.

**fightin w/ bf. lol make up sx l8r! WOOHOO! :)))))))**

Unwillingly, he feels his lips twitch up in a grin. It’s just like her to do something like this, and even more like her to make sure the whole goddamn world knows what’s up. “Fuck yeah,” Tucker says as he reaches over and tugs her onto his lap, “Let’s start now.”

Twenty minutes later and one narrowly avoided trip to the emergency room later, he remembers that he was supposed to be working on his plan. “Wait, wait, hold on a sec,” Tucker says as he tears his lips away from hers.

Kai blinks slowly at him with those wide brown eyes of hers and gnaws at her lower lip. “Aw, did I hit your cast again?” she asks anxiously, “Maybe I should put my legs behind my head when we make out.”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, because he knows exactly how flexible she is and he can’t believe they haven’t tried that before. They probably can’t try it until he gets his cast off, though, so he puts those mental images into his spank bank for a later withdrawal.

“Cool,” she replies.  

Kai’s already shifting to put her weight on her knees when he realizes what he said. “Wait, I mean no,” Tucker says before she can go any further, “You didn’t hurt my leg. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

She looks at him like she can’t believe her ears. Which, okay, she’s kind of got a point, because he’s never let anything prevent him from kissing her before. Hell, once they were in the back of a movie theater when the fire alarm went off and it still took them a minute to get up. “Uh, okay, I know I’m kinda killing the mood,” Tucker admits, “But I just wanted to talk to you about Wash--”

Kai groans and slumps back down..

“I just wanted to say he isn’t a narc!” Tucker says quickly, “And that he’s a pretty cool guy. I mean, he’s kind of a killjoy sometimes, and he’s always lecturing me about being responsible...” It occurs to him that this isn’t the best way to win her over. “...but he’s got a pretty big dick?”

She pauses and looks a _smidge_ more interested.

Tucker takes a deep breath, pausing to consider his argument. He doesn’t want to fuck this up now, not after finally getting an in. “Plus, he used to be in the army, remember?” She always had a thing for guys in uniforms. And girls too, come to think of it. “Well, he never let himself get out of shape. Dude’s got muscles for days. I bet he could lift you over his head without trying.”

That spark of interest leaps and grows in bounds as she considers his words. “The army?” she echoes, wetting her lips as she wriggles thoughtfully in his lap. He shifts in his seat, enjoying the feel of it. ”Uh, that’s kinda hot.”

“Hell yeah,” Tucker agrees. He’s enjoyed that mental image more than a couple of times over the last few years. Shit, more than a couple of times over the last few days. “And he’s got those handcuffs he’s always carrying around with him. I bet he’d arrest you if you ask nicely.”

“ _Hot_ ,” she murmurs again, pupils already dilated from whatever fantasy of him she’s got going on. She shifts in his lap again--unconsciously this time--hips grinding down against his with a slow roll that has him biting back a smirk.

Too bad convincing Wash isn’t gonna be as easy at this. It’s okay, though. He just needs a little more information before he can figure out how to approach the topic.

 

* * *

 

Tucker springs the question on him three days later.

“I don’t,” Washington tells him simply, not even a hint of deceit in his voice when he says it, something so honestly unexpected that it makes Tucker sit straight up in surprise. “I think she’s annoying sometimes, but I don’t hate her.”

Now _that’s_ a lie--it _has_ to be a lie, because those two are pretty much incapable of being in the same room for more than ten minutes without a fight breaking out between them. It’s like Kai knows how to push every single one of Washington’s buttons and takes a weird pleasure out of making him shout, whereas Wash tends to lose all semblance of patience the minute that she opens her mouth. For all that Wash likes to accuse her of being childish, he’s never more immature than when he’s being brought down to her level.

But when he points all of that out to Wash, his deductive skills are met with the world’s most unimpressed look. “Bickering and insults?” Washington repeats, openly scoffing at Tucker. “That’s what convinced you? Explain to me how that’s different from how I act with you.”

And okay, it sounds a little stupid when you say it like that. But no, there were plenty of other things too. He wasn’t just pulling this idea out of the air. “Alright, but what about how you always leave the room whenever she’s around? You never wanna hang out with her! It’s like you--”

“We planned your birthday party together,” Wash interrupts impatiently, “And I drove her to work for a week when your car broke down. And for some reason--I have no idea _why_ \--I’m always the one she calls when she needs to get bailed out of jail.”

“Dude, that stuff doesn’t count,” Tucker protests, because it really doesn’t, “She only calls you up because you’re a cop and you can get her out without paying. And it’s not like you guys were hanging out alone when you did my party thing. I know Church and the others were there too!”

“And they were so helpful,” Wash says sarcastically, “We definitely didn’t get stuck with the brunt of the work. I definitely wasn’t the one who drove her around to pick up supplies while everyone else argued over whether or not exotic dancers whose name ends in -i are superior to ones that end in -y.”

Tucker frowns. “I could’ve had strippers?”

Washington puts his chopsticks down and stares at him in exasperation. “Why would you want strippers when you have Kaikaina?”

Tucker inhales sharply at the sound of her name coming from Washington’s lips. All of a sudden his heart is pounding wildly in his chest, breath coming unexpectedly quick, drunk with something he can’t explain.

Wash looks alarmed. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tucker chokes out. He swallows hard, hand clenching tight around the edge of the table. He never realized until now how much he missed hearing that word come from Washington’s lips. “Nothing, it’s just...that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call her by her name in months.”

Washington falters for a moment, then shakes his head as if doing so is gonna change the facts and take back those long four months. “What? I--no, that can’t be true,” he protests, “I know I’ve talked about her since then.”

Tucker hesitates, then says, “Yeah, but…you always call her my girlfriend.” Not her name. Never  her name. Always keeping a careful distance between them. Sometimes he thinks that’s why Kai has been so stubborn about Wash all this time.

He watches as Wash sits there in total silence, still except for the rapid fluttering of his eyelashes as he considers Tucker’s words. The nerves seem to travel up and down his body the longer he stays quiet, knees and fingers turning jittery and nervous as the jolt against the table, eyes flickering back and forth between Tucker’s face and the walls around them.

“Well...that’s what she is,” Washington says stiltedly, head bowed and heavy with guilt, “She’s your girlfriend. You’re her boyfriend. That’s how things are.”

Maybe.

But that’s not the only way things have to be.

 

* * *

 

Wash offers to drive him back after they're done eating, but Tucker shrugs him off and sends him on his way. His boss expects him back tomorrow and it's not like he can walk the way he usually does, so he's gonna have to get used to taking the bus sooner or later. Might as well consider today a test run, so to speak.

As he sits there chomping on the rest of their fried noodles, he contemplates the latest information he received along with the mental list he's been making since all that stuff went down.

 

**TUCKER'S KICKASS PLAN FOR THE ULTIMATE THREESOME**

**Step 1:** Stay alive. (Check)

**Step 2:** Wait until Kai and Wash get there, then look pathetic and ask for a pity blowjobs. (Failed, but not his fault.)

**Step 3:** Get Wash on board by pointing out how hot the sex would be. (Failed)

**Step 4:** Modified version of Step 2 with Wash. (Failed. Totally his fault.)

**Step 5:** Wing it (Fucking failed)

**Step 6:** Get Kai on board so she can do all the work for him. (Failed!!!!???? What the actual fuck?)

**Step 7:** Figure out if they're into each other. (In progress)

 

After what Washington just said to him and the way Kai's been jumping him lately whenever he says Wash's name, Tucker pretty sure that he can officially move on to step eight--something he flippantly entitled “All That Feelings Bullshit” after that second conversation with Wash.

Tucker sighs.

He fucking hates step eight.

 

* * *

 

He waits until they’re drifting off later that night to enact his plan.

“Hey Kai,” he begins. He waits for her small hum of acknowledgement, knowing that it's twice as reliable an indicator that she's awake than her actually responding with words. He can't count how many conversations they've had that ended with the realization that she was asleep the entire time.

She grunts in irritation.

Tucker smiles faintly in response. "Why'd you give in so quickly about the threesome with Wash? I thought you hated him."

"Big dick," comes the reply, muffled as it is from her pillow.

Even through the haze of near-sleep, she sounds eager to get her hands on it. It's probably not the best time to admit that he's never actually seen the dick in question. He hopes he hasn't been overselling it.

"You've seen lots of big dicks, though," he points out, "They don't usually get you revved up the way you've been all week." Not that he hasn't been enjoying it, of course, but his tongue is starting to get a cramp from how often she's been riding his face and his wrist has been aching so much lately that he's starting to worry about carpal tunnel. If it weren't for her vibrator, he'd be making his second trip to the doctor in a week.

She hums again and draws a knee up, silently slipping her hand under the sheet. Tucker watches her do it with interest, wanting nothing more than to tug it down and get a better view. "He's got those muscles too," she murmurs sleepily, doing something with her hand that makes her sigh, " And those long fingers."

"Mmmm, yeah," Tucker agrees, dick joining the conversation on that happy reminder. Oh, the things he thought about those fingers doing to him over the years. "You ever see that thing he does with his beer when he's drunk?"

Two fingers absentmindedly circling the rim of his bottle, rubbing them over the opening in a constant tease that's all the more devastating because Wash never seems to have a clue. Sometimes--oh fuck, Tucker has to take himself in hand at the memory--sometimes Wash will look down and notice the state of them, the way they've become wet with condensation, and in his drunken stupor he won't think twice about drawing them into his mouth to suck them dry.

Tucker loves watching Wash when he's drunk.

Still, as much as he'd like to continue this thread until they both come with Wash's name on their lips, he knows he's not gonna get anywhere with this unless he keeps himself on track. Even if that does mean ignoring the way his dick twitches when Kai grinds into her palm and moans.

"I'm just saying," he continues, purposely stretching his leg to let the pain keep him focused, "Something had to change your mind. I know your standards are as low as mine, but you don't usually go around fucking guys you hate. I mean, sometimes, yeah, but I didn't think you'd go for it with a guy like Wash."

There's a long silence from her side of the bed and then an even longer snore. Tucker comes up on his elbows and twists his body around just so she can get a good look at his glare. "Seriously?" he demands, "That's what you're going for right now?"

She fakes an even louder snore.

"Your hand is still down your pants!"

"I'm not wearing pants," Kai mumbles grumpily, finally giving up on that stupid charade. As if to prove it, she throws the covers off them entirely, the orange glow of the streetlight outside of their window putting her perfect body on display.

_Stay focused_ , he reminds his not-so-little friend.

She huffs when her breasts fail to distract him from the topic at hand, eyes narrowing for a moment before she brings her sticky fingers up to her mouth to taste, pumping them in and out in that way she knows drives him crazy, whining eagerly around the fullness in her mouth. Unfortunately for her, that doesn't do anything but remind him of Wash and his beer.

Reluctantly, Tucker pulls her hand away. "You're being really weird about this, you know," he informs her, "I don't get why you won't just answer the question. Even Wash wasn't this bad when I asked him why he hated you."

Kai slams her palm against the bed. "Who cares why some stupid bitch doesn't like me anyway?" she snarls suddenly, surprising him with the force of her anger, "He's not even hot! He's old and boring and no one likes him and everyone talks about him behind his back!"

"Uh," Tucker says.

She crosses her arms over her chest and fumes.

"Uh," he says again, unable to think of anything else but the words _holy shit_. "He, uh, he told me he didn't hate you. And I think he likes you? And I'm pretty sure that he implied that you were hotter than like every stripper on the planet."

Kai makes a small noise that sounds scarily like a sniffle to his ears, but just as he’s about to have a heart attack, she curls up against him and forces her usual confidence back into her voice. “Pssh, yeah I am,” she brags as if nothing has happened, “I can do way better splits than the girls at the Pussy Palace.”

Tucker wraps an arm around her shoulder, watching warily for any sign of a future outburst. “You totally do,” he agrees and means it, “And you put on a way better show, too. Tammi may have went to Juilliard, but she doesn’t know the first thing about choreography.”

“And she sucks at lap-dances.”

“Everyone sucks at lap-dances compared to you,” Tucker assures her. He reaches down and tugs the sheets back up to wrap around their shoulders. “I would know, I’ve had one from every stripper in town, but you’re the only one who ever made me come in my pants.”

It's the sweetest compliment he knows how to give and it works better than any poem or love song could. He lulls her to sleep with soft words about the way she makes him feel, soothing her with his their version of love talk as he spreads kisses wherever he can reach, whispering until her body grows heavy and finally stills.

Only then does he reach for his phone.

**dude i think you hurt her feelings**

_**What have I told you about texting me when I’m at work?** _

Tucker ignores that, thumbs already tapping out a reply that’s a lot more important than any lecture Wash wants to send his way. It spills out of him all at once: his frustration and confusion bubbling over and spilling out every secret thought and hidden desire he hid away from everyone’s sight.

~~**why can’t you guys get with the program and** ~~   
~~**things would be way better if** ~~   
~~**we could be happy if you’d both stop fucking around** ~~

Tucker sighs and deletes every line before he can finish writing it. Everything he wants to say sounds like the opening to a conversation that should be happening face to face, not written over the course of multiple messages that can be misconstrued in any number of ways. Just the thought of him fucking up his chance at more is enough to make him want to--

The buzz of his phone vibrating is almost a relief.

**_What do you mean I hurt her feelings?_ **

Tucker slowly lets out the breath he was holding and pulls Kai closer to his chest. The room feels colder than it did two minutes ago--far colder than the summer air allows. Cold like the hard pavement beneath his back as the sirens drew ever closer to where he was.

He buries his face in her hair to push away the memory, and reminds himself that this plan of his cannot fail, not in a million years. He won’t let it. It doesn’t matter how many times he has to try, because at some point on that dirty road Tucker came to the conclusion that he’ll never be completely happy with only half of what he wants.

So he makes himself type out a reply.

**turns out i’m not the only one who thought you hated her**

The next set of messages come in quick succession, giving Tucker just enough time to read them without allowing him a chance to respond. Even without the emoticons that Kai likes to use or the high pitch of Washington’s voice, it’s easy to see how upset he is by what Tucker said.

**_I don’t hate her! I never have._ **

**_Did you tell her that?_ **

**_Why would it bother her, anyway? She’s already made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t think much of me or my opinion._ **

There’s a long pause after that last text hits his inbox--long enough for Tucker to start wondering how he’s going to reply--and then one final message finds its way into his hands and fills him with affection for his two idiots.

**_She can’t get upset about it when she’s the one who can’t stand being near me._ **

Tucker stares up at their ceiling and thinks very carefully about what to say next. Whatever he sends could set them back or push things forward faster than any comment or plan of the last few days.

~~**i think she could stand to be alot closer. bow chika bow wow** ~~   
~~**i spent like 15min calming her down, so im pretty fucking sure she cares about your opinion, ok?** ~~   
~~**srsly, why am i the smartest person here rn?** ~~

Tucker wrinkles his nose. None of those seem like the right choice. He thinks about it some more, taking his time with it, hoping that Washington doesn't put his phone on silent because he assumes that Tucker's fallen asleep. It'd be fine if they were shooting the shit like usual, but something like this can't be put off 'til tomorrow, not if he wants to make this work.

After three years of friendship and two years wavering on the edge of something, he knows things about Wash that no one else does. And he knows--knows it like he knows the smell of Kai's hair and the infectious sound of Junior's laughter--that it's only on nights like these that Washington can't force himself to lie about how he really feels.

So fuck it, Tucker's going all in.

**youre so dumb. if she hated you, that night in the car never wouldve happened**

Tucker can only be talking about one night in particular and to Washington's credit he doesn't pretend to be confused.

_**What are you talking about? She had no clue that I was going to be there.** _

**who the fuck else was i gonna go to?**

He never put that together, not until now, but...yeah. Sure, it's possible--likely even, that she just wasn't thinking clearly at the time, but...that week when Washington had to drive her to work? That was her idea, not his. Tucker's just the one who got Wash to do it.

And maybe that should've been a clue all along.

**she was crying and screaming all over the place, remember? it was fucked up.**

_**I remember. I just don't understand what point you're trying to make. Even if she knew you would come to me, that has nothing to do any feelings she has for me.** _

**dude. she let you see her cry**

He watches the minutes on his clock shift from ten to eleven and then to twelve, gnawing at his lower lip the entire time. Did he push too far? Did Wash get called away? In the three long minutes before Washington replies, Tucker thinks up a million and one scenarios to explain the silence. None of them seem enough.

By the time he gets a reply, he's no longer sure he wants to read it. But he does, because it's Wash, and Wash is stupid but he's still theirs. No matter what it says, that won't change.

_**My being there was purely incidental.** _

**yeah. but she still let you see her cry**

Washington doesn’t respond for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Kai may be done with the client from hell, but that doesn't mean the rest of her job is a walk in the park. Really, it's more of a same-shit-different-day kind of situation than anything else, filled with a lot of tedious grunt work and people getting picky over different shades of blue. But on the bright side she gets to do a lot of work at home, which means Tucker can talk about what happened last night while she's hopefully too distracted to put up a front.

"So you know he thinks you hate him too, right?"

Her hands pause over the mockups for potential table settings she's been setting up on the coffee table. "Uh, what?" she asks, sending him a confused look, "Wait, are you talking to me?"

Tuckers stares at her blankly. "There's no one else here."

"Pshh, yeah, whatever. You could be talking to your dick again."

She's got a point; he does that often enough that Wash has started telling him it's weird. But what can he say, sometimes the big guy needs a little encouragement. Not the kind of encouragement you get from a pill or anything, it's just that every now and then it needs to be convinced to try something a little more adventurous than it's used to. No harm in that. Wash will find that out eventually.

Speaking of...

"No, I mean Wash. _He's_ the one who thinks you hate him."

She scowls at the mention of his name, a far cry from the terminal case of turned on she's been having lately whenever Wash is brought up. That can't possibly be a good sign. "Uh, yeah, that's because I do," she tells him defiantly, "He's like super dumb. And boring. And--"

"Old," Tucker finishes with a sigh, "Yeah, I remember." He cannot believe he has to go through this again. "I thought you decided all that crap doesn't matter. I mean, you were all over his dick this week, right?"

"So? I can hate him and still wanna put a ring pop in his ass."

"Yeah, I--" Tucker freezes as her words catch up to him, eyes bugging out at the mental picture. "Wait, what? Is that really a thing you wanna do? 'Cause I mean, I'm pretty sure we can just use buttplugs or something."

She looks at him like he's being unnecessarily stupid. "Buttplugs don't make your ass taste like watermelon," she points out loftily, "Even if you do use flavored lube."

"Yeaaah, but they don't make your ass sticky either."

"Pssh, he should be used to sticky stuff up his ass."

Tucker bursts into laughter and holds up a hand to give her the high five she so rightly deserves. She has to lean over to claim it since Tucker can't, but that's just fine; it puts her closer than she would've been otherwise and gives him the opportunity to entwine their fingers and pull her up until she's curled up by his side.

It's more than worth the twinge of pain.

Tucker wraps an arm around her shoulder and let's her nuzzle into him. "I don't think he's gonna go for the ring pop," he tells her, "But we can still try. And if he says no, we can always offer to stick something else up there instead. Bow chicka bow wow."

"I don't think he's gonna say yes."

"Okay, then he can stick something up my ass instead. Or yours. Who cares? It's gonna be so fucking awesome."

She turns and sinks her teeth into the skin and then soothes it with her tongue, smiling against his neck when he shivers. "Nooo," she says, letting her fingers trail up his thigh, "Like, I don't think he's gonna wanna do it."

He's beginning to think she's trying to distract him.

"Well, there's always blowjobs and eating people out, right? Or whatever, we can just jerk him off or let him watch or--"

"No," she says again, biting down harder. It's starting to approach the unsexy side of pain, which Tucker isn't too much of a fan of unless it involves spanking. "I mean, I was thinking about it, right? And at first, I was like, 'He's _totally_ gonna wanna do it' because he always wanted to bang you, you know? But now I think he's gonna say no 'cause he doesn't wanna bang me."

Tucker scoffs and reminds her about what Wash said about her and strippers. "Plus," he says as a thought occurs to him, "You remember that time we had to sleep at his place because the AC broke down on the hottest day of the year?"

They wound up hanging out all night long because not one of them had to be at work the next day. It was fun, too; for once, Wash and Kai were keeping it civil, and the only fight that broke out that evening was over what pizza toppings to get. It was one of the best nights of Tucker's life and morning, as it turns out, was just as good.

Wash woke up early even though he didn't have to. Habit, he said, but Tucker thinks he was just being a boy scout about having people over, because he pulled out a dozen eggs and a some pancake mix and began going to town on breakfast at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning.

The smell woke Tucker up first. He left Kai behind on the pullout couch and staggered into the kitchen nose first, the smell of bacon keeping his grumpiness at bay. He tried to steal a piece or two, but Wash wouldn't let him have any until they were all up, so instead he buried his head into the crook of his arm and dozed at the table to the sound and smell of home.

But that's not the important thing about the story. What really matters is what happened ten minutes later, when Kai came padding into the kitchen wearing nothing but her underwear and one of Tucker's old faded white tank tops. You could see everything all at once: her firm calves and muscled thighs, the swell of her breasts and her dusky nipples; all of her bouncing along the kitchen floor in order to press her body against Washington's side and watch as he cooked breakfast.

Wash was so flustered that the frying pan flew out of his hands, which put a dent in the wall and completely destroyed the last of the pancakes.

"Yeah," Tucker says, "I'm pretty sure you gave him a boner."

Kai's nose pokes against him as she considers that. "Yeah," she says, gnawing thoughtfully on her lower lip, "But just because you give someone a boner doesn't mean they want to bang you. It just means they think you're hot. That’s what I _said_."

And okay, she has a point. One that makes a whole lot more sense when it isn’t wrapped up in hypothetical sexual uses of candy.

"Besides, he didn't let me jump him when I asked him before.”

Tucker jerks and knocks their heads together, but that's nothing compared to what he feels when his leg slips off the coffee table and hits the floor with a hard thud. He lets loose with a litany of curses that doesn't let up for a good long while, fingers curled up around the cast in some kind of belated effort to keep himself still.

"What the fuck," he wheezes into his knees. "Did you just say?"

He hears her whining wordlessly above him, whimpering as she stomps around. "I didn't say anything," she exclaims shrilly, "You're the one who started freaking out for no reason and started trying to knock people out with your pointy chin!"

He yanks his head up to glare at her.

"Sheesh," she mutters.

Tucker pinches the bridge of his nose and begins to feel a lot like Wash. Next time the guy starts getting that look on his face, Tucker's gonna have a lot more sympathy. "I meant what did you _mean_ ," he tries again, "When you said you tried to jump Wash? When the fuck did you try to do that?"

"Ohhh, right. Yeah, it was last year. I couldn't figure out what I was gonna get you and him for Christmas, but then I remembered how my mom always said the best gift you can give someone is a threesome. It was gonna be awesome! Like a present for all of us."

"Totally," he says, because he obviously wouldn't be going through all this trouble if he didn't agree with her about that. "So what happened?" And why aren't they all living together by now and having sex on every piece of furniture in the apartment on a daily basis? Especially the kitchen counter. That's definitely a favorite.

"Um, I dunno. I said I wanted to talk to him because I was having trouble getting you a gift, so he agreed to meet up with me to talk about it. And I suggested a club, but he said we'd never hear each other talk, so we went to a bar instead. But a dancey bar, you know? Still cool, but a little quieter."

"Uh huh, with you so far..."

"And then we starting arguing because _I_ thought all his ideas were stupid and _he_ said all of mine were 'ill-advised', so we decided to get drunk until we liked each other more. Oh, and then I caught him peeking down my shirt, so I talked him into dancing with me and when we sat back down I climbed on his lap and started making out with him."

Tucker stares at her, completely stunned and utterly impressed. "You got _Washington_ to dance with you?"

He would've paid good money to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Drunk or not, it must have been a hard sell, because what Kai considers dancing is what other people consider borderline sex. There's no way Wash didn't know what he she was asking when he accepted her offer; Tucker's caught him watching them dozens of times.

Holy shit, Tucker thinks giddily, we are all definitely gonna bang.

He's too caught up in the whirl of happiness to notice the first poke to his side, but he definitely notices the second. "Ow, what the fuck?" Tucker exclaims.

"I said he turned me down," she reminds him with a frown on her face. She pokes him again irritation. "How come you never listen to what I say?"

"I listen!" Tucker protests, "I just don't get what happened. It sounds like it was going pretty damn good for awhile." More than good, if the two of them were grinding on the dance floor and making out. "So what changed?"

Kai scowls. "He pushed me off."

"...of his dick?"

"Of his _lips_ ," she says emphatically, then reconsiders and admits, "Yeah, and his dick. And the chair." Her face falls at the memory, looking far more despondent than he has seen her before. "He pushed me off and said we needed to stop because nothing in the world could ever make him want to do it with me."

Huh. Do her, or do that? Because he thinks he's beginning to see what the problem is.

"Did he say that before or after you told him what you were going for with the present?" he asks her. How she answers this could change everything--not just about what happened between them last December, but with Tucker's own strategy for getting Wash on board and whether or not it's even possible.

"After," she informs him.

He feels his heart sink in his chest.

"I think?" And there it goes rising again. She scratches her head in confusion, suddenly unsure. "I was really drunk. Like, a lot. He doesn't look like he can hold his booze, but he def knows how."

"So it's possible that what he really meant was that he wasn't gonna cheat on me with you. Wait, no, I mean the other thing. He wasn't gonna cheat with you on me. Is that the same thing? Whatever, you know what I mean."

"No I don't!"

"Ugh," Tucker groans, "I mean he thought you were trying to cheat on me and he wasn't gonna do that." Even though Wash should know better than that. He and Kai would never cheat on each other. If they wanna do something--or rather someone--then all either of them have to do is ask. Just because they tend to stick with each other doesn't mean they don't have exceptions.

"That's not cheating! He's on the list!"

"Yeah, but _he_ doesn't know that."

That quiets her down. Takes the remains of the glum look off her face too, as she finally comes to terms with the fact it might not have been her that Wash was objecting to after all. "You really think that's why?" she asks him.

Tucker nods. "He kinda turned me down, too. Remember?"

"And everyone knows he has a thing for you."

Tucker nods again because it's true. That's the one thing he never doubted in all this time, the one thing he never lost faith in. Wash loves him, wants him, has for years, but Tucker never thought he could love him back because of Kai. It wasn't until the accident that Tucker let himself believe that he could have both, and it wasn't until now that he started wondering if the others had been holding themselves back too.

"Okay," Tucker says with a new-found determination, "So we're going to ask him again, but this time we're gonna make sure that all three of us are there."

"Yeah!"

Tucker watches Kai out of the corner of his eyes, "And we're gonna make sure everyone knows that no one hates anybody." Kai shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "Because this isn't going to work if one of us does."

"Mmhmm."

"I'm talking about you."

She rolls her eyes with her entire body. "Ugh, fine, whatever. I _guess_ he's okay," she says grudgingly, "For a cop. He did take me to the doctor that one time when I didn't want to go alone."

"Wait, when was this?" Tucker asks.

She shrugs and avoids his eyes. "Umm, last April?"

Tucker blinks hard. Apparently this is a day for finding out all kinds of shit. Who would have guessed that there were so many things they weren't telling him about? And why would she go to Wash and not him?

She shrugs again when he asks outright. "The pee-stick said I might be pregnant, but I didn't wanna tell you until I knew for sure," she tells him. She sounds casual and careless in a way that puts his nerves on edge; he can't say what it is that bothers him so much about it, but he knows she isn't telling him something, and he knows that whatever it is still bothers her to this very day.

"Alright," he says, treading lightly, "We obviously don't have a kid crawling around here, so I'm gonna assume it was wrong or that you dealt with it the usual way." He leans into her arm in a show of support. "I would've gone with you. You didn't have to call Wash up."

"Yeah," she replies, "I know."

"But he was still a pretty good choice. He's great at--"

"I was thinking about keeping it," Kai blurts out.

Tucker's eyes slam shut of their own accord. He can't breathe. He wants to, but his lungs have forgotten how. His brain is too busy to tell it how, too caught up in visions of brown eyed babies with wavy hair. "I thought," he begins, then has to clear his throat, "I thought you said last time that you were cool just being a stepmom to Junior."

"I am!" she insists, "But we only get to see him sometimes. And like, he's big, so I don't have to worry about him dying if I forget to feed him 'cause he'll just feed himself. But a baby won't, it'll just _starve_. So I probably shouldn't be mom? That's why I changed my mind and got rid of it."

He can't say he isn't glad that she made that decision--they can barely take care of themselves, much less deal with a full time kid-- but still, he can't let her go on believing that stuff. "I think all parents think they're accidentally gonna kill their kids," he tells her gently, "My mom told me that when I was freaking out about dropping Junior after he was born. She said she spent her whole pregnancy worrying about stuff like that."

"Yeah, but your mom is smart, so it wouldn't have happened. She wouldn't forget to buy food all month or come home wasted or leave you at a truck stop so she can go running off to join the circus. But I forgot Junior at day care once because I saw a cool shirt I wanted to buy!"

"I did that too," he says in a panic, "I mean, not for a shirt, but so what? It was a stupid mistake that everyone makes at least once. Even my mom--sheleft me in a department store once because she thought she saw Jean Claude Van Damme buying a tank top!"

"But she remembered--"

"So did you!"

His words echo in a room gone suddenly quiet. She wants to believe it, he can tell, but she's not ready to yet. Maybe she'll never be, but he can still try.

"Kai, you forgot him for ten minutes. That's all. You think he cares about that?" Tucker tells her, "Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't even remember it happened. All he remembers is that you make him pancakes shapes like pineapples--"

"Grif showed me how," she mutters.

"And that you're the only one who knows who everyone is in Adventure Time, and that you make sure I get him those hot pockets with meatballs in them whenever he has a weekend with us. He thinks you're awesome, okay? And--" You aren't your mom, he wants to say. You're a thousand times better than she'll ever be. "If you change your mind about having a kid, then you're gonna be great at it because you already are. But if you never want to have a kid, then that's cool too. I mean, as long as you're okay with Junior."

Her eyes shine with tears that refuse to fall.

Tucker's two seconds from freaking out again. He was only trying to make her feel better, but he must have messed things up again because Kai only cries when she's angry or hurt. "Shit, I...please tell me you're about to yell at me. You can say whatever you want, I don't care."

She sniffles and rubs her nose with the back of her hand. "Can I call you an asshole and say you have a small dick?" she asks with a watery smile.

Tucker's hands fly up in naked surrender. "Whoa, let's not take it too far. You want it to be something believable, right? Why don't you stick with something simple and yell about how I fold my clothes?"

He's never been more grateful to hear her snort.

 

* * *

 

Later, when they've settled into bed in hopes of pushing all the bad feelings away, she finally tells him the rest of the story.

"He took me to the Planned Parenthood too," she tells him, whispering the words against his chest, "And when those jerkfaces that are always around starting calling me names, he threatened to put them in the hospital. It was hot. Told him I never met a dirty cop before."

He can imagine Wash's reaction to that.

"And then he was super nice to me after. He got me some pie and took me to his place so we could play with his cats for awhile. I told him it wasn't a big deal because I already had like ten abortions, but he said it was fine and that I could stay as long as I liked."

"He was nice to me," she repeats wistfully.

Tucker doesn't know what to say, but that's okay. There's no dictionary definition that exists that can cover the mix of emotion he feels, no turn of phrase that will help him explain that mix of belated guilt and worry and fierce protectiveness he feels on her behalf, no obscure term that can ever show the sheer depth of his gratitude for Wash. It can't, because as far as he knows no variation of those words alone have ever come wrapped up in all the love and respect and admiration he feels for them both.

But Tucker manages to whisper, "Good."

 

* * *

 

Kai moves on as though none of last night's conversation happened. It's so like her that he can barely muster up a bit of surprise, but some of it seeps through regardless. He knows that she won't let herself be bothered, knows she'll pretend that nothing can hurt her, but nonetheless he finds himself watching her for days, waiting with held breath for the smallest sign she's about to crack.

In the end, she gets tired of him watching long before he does.

"What the heck are you watching me for, bitch?"

Tucker automatically snaps his head down to look at his plate. "I'm not watching you," he says defensively, "I'm just sitting here eating dinner. The place put way too much pepper in this. What's up with that?"

"I will punch you in the dick, you creepy loser guy."

He scoffs. "Nah, you won't."

"I might!" Kai insists. Tucker glances at her skeptically. "South's super great at dick punching and she's been teaching me a lot of other stuff too. I know all kinds of things now!"

Tucker's been on the wrong side of South's talents before. He knows enough to be wary of that proclamation. "Fine, whatever, you're the dick punching champion of America. I don't care. It doesn't matter because I wasn't doing anything."

"You were staring at me."

"No I wasn't."

"Yes, you were! You've been staring at me all week."

Tucker leers at her in open appreciation. "You're hot," he says with a wicked grin, "I stare at you all the fucking time."

"I _wish_ you were staring at my boobs," she says as she stabs at her chicken salad in a way that's a little concerning. "But you're not. You're just being all weird because you're freaking out that we almost had a kid."

"Uh, we almost had a kid like three times in the last three years," he points out rightfully. His sperm is almost superhuman that way. It doesn't matter if they use condoms and birth control or even the morning after pill. One of those wiggly bastards always sneaks through. "I'm just saying, if was I gonna freak out I would've done it before."

She sticks her tongue out at him. It covered with mashed up pieces of chicken and spinach leaves and it's totally gross, but he still wants to kiss her anyway. His dick is the worst.

"Okay, look," he begins when she doesn't say anything else, "I'll stop staring at you in a non-sexy way if you stop acting like nothing happened the other day. Deal?"

Kai blinks at him in confusion, head tilted in that weird vacant puppy way she always brings out when fucking with Grif or Wash. Tucker knows her well enough by now to know that when she looks like that it's almost always on purpose, so he waits for her to drop the act.

"You're not supposed to talk about bad things," she informs him reproachfully, "You're supposed to ignore them or drink a lot 'till you forget or don't feel bad anymore."

Tucker shudders. "Who said anything about talking about it? I was just hoping we could, y'know, acknowledge that some shit went down and then avoid ever bringing it up unless we're wasted."

"Oh." She brightens and beams at him. "Yeah, awesome! Let's do that."

He looks at her suspiciously, but as far as he can tell she really does seem to be on board with the plan. "Awesome," he echoes, glad that that's over with, "Then can you do me a favor and grab me a beer from the fridge?"

Talking about emotional stuff is exhausting.

 

* * *

He’s about fifteen minutes into his lunch break by the time she finally shows up at the diner. He hears her long before he sees her coming, some weird girlfriend-sense he has that tells him the click of heels heading in his direction belongs to her and her alone.

Kai flops down across from him at their table, legs sprawling out to rest on the opposite seat in an unconscious mimicry of his position. “You made me think your cop was into me,” she says accusingly, “Not cool.”

"He's not my cop," Tucker says automatically. He frowns down at his turkey club. "And he is into you. What are you even talking about?"

She kicks out at his chair instead of responding, then snatches the sandwich right out of his hand and takes a huge bite in a weird display of defiance, silently daring him to protest the theft of his food. He says nothing, hoping that will calm her down long enough for him to figure out what's wrong.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to help at all. To his dismay, she puts the food down and takes it a step or two further, purposely buttoning up her blouse to hide her cleavage in a twisted reverse strip-tease that makes him wanna cry. It's so fucked up. She knows that's his favorite part of meeting her for lunch.

"He turned me down again!" she hisses as Tucker glumly stares at the place her cleavage used to be, "I dressed up like a sexy convict and he kicked me out! I didn't even get to see his handcuffs!"

The little old lady sitting next to them chokes on her drink.

Tucker’s fingers tap irritably against the edge of his plate. "What the hell? I thought we agreed we were gonna hit on him together."

Kai slaps her hand against the table. It rattles the salt and pepper shakers, but doesn't do anything to Tucker but make him return her glare. " _Whatever_. You weren't doing anything," she points out, "I could've banged him if--”

"If what?" Tucker snorts. "If you didn't do the exact same shit we always do and scare him off again? Fuck, did you at least tell him that I was into it?"

"That was gonna be after I got him to punish me for being bad," Kai says sulkily. She shifts in her seat just uncomfortably enough to make it clear that she knows she messed up. "You were waiting too long, and Dakota said she'd sneak me up to one of the interrogation rooms if I got her an in with that chick who runs that lesbian fight club down by the pier."

Wait, what?

"It was totally gonna work, too, but Wash freaked out when she told him I was being held on questioning, so he was all upset when he ran up there and saw me dressed up," she finishes. Kai wrinkles her nose. "Maybe he doesn't like role playing?"

"Maybe," Tucker says sarcastically.

Kai fidgets some more. "She said he was stupid angry, too. Like, he stomped around for hours. She said he was still acting bitchy when it was time to go home."

Great. That's all they needed: for Washington to get pissed off just as they were about to hit the home stretch. Just...great.

Kai hesitates before speaking. "Uh...you're not mad at me, right?"

"No," he lies.

"Oh," she says, sounding strangely disappointed. Her lower lip does that pouty thing that he always finds so distracting. "Aww, I was gonna try to make it up to you."

Tucker perks up. "Uh, did I say no? Because I meant yes," he says quickly, "I'm totally pissed off. You, uh, you ruined everything, and now...uh..."

He loses track of his thoughts when she makes her move. He watches with eager eyes as she teases her fingers over her shirt, slipping them carefully over buttons that seem to pop open at the faintest touch of her hand, slowly making her way down until her shirt gapes open and plays peekaboo with the top of her lacy red bra.

A waitress glances over at her and promptly walks into a table.  

Kai doesn't take it much further than that, but it doesn't matter; the slow stroke of her thumb over the next button down is more than enough to have him licking his lips, the mere thought of it enough to spark him with interest.

Fuck, how could Wash turn her down _twice?_

"Maybe he isn't into sexy convicts," Kai suggests, causing him to snap out of it a little. He didn't realize he said it out loud, too distracted by her to pay attention to anything else. Even now, it's kind of hard to focus on anything but the stroke of her hand.

“Yeah, maybe,” Tucker says, only half-listening to what she’s actually saying. He’s still got about twenty minutes before he has to go back to work. That’s plenty of time for a bathroom quickie if they can figure out what to do with his leg. "Or maybe he isn't into role playing."

The old lady sitting next to them clears her throat, then leans across the table to pat Kai on the hand in a weird motherly sort of way. “You should offer to give him a rimjob next time, dearie,” the old lady says, “I’ll wager your young man would have a hard time turning that down.”

Kaikaina tilts her head at the woman and dimples, visibly charmed by her advice. “Like, I usually think old people are creepy ‘cause they’re all wrinkled and gross and stuff,” she informs the woman, “But you seem pretty cool for someone who’s probably gonna break a hip when you get up.”

The little old lady arches an eyebrow at Kai. “I’ve got a twenty five year old pool boy sleeping with me for a chance at my inheritance,” she says tartly, “If I haven’t broken a hip by now, it’s not gonna happen when I get up from a chair.”

“Fuck,” Tucker says, “I think I’ve got a brand new role model.”

“Maybe you should ask her for a job.”

 

* * *

Tucker does something stupid later that day.

While Kai is at work making up for the extended lunch break she took earlier and the internet is fucking up and slowing down their Netflix load time, Tucker ignores every single instinct and piece of knowledge gained from years of friendship and does something that makes Kai's act from earlier seem downright genius: he takes out his phone and texts Wash.

**so did you like the view?**

His phone rings three seconds later and he doesn't know why but the sound of 'Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?' suddenly sounds furious to his ears, like some heavy metal cover to an otherwise fun song.

It's better for his health if he lets it go to voicemail.

The phone goes silent and then immediately starts ringing again. This time it gets halfway through before cutting itself off again, which does nothing for his unease. Just as he's beginning to think that Wash has stopped trying to call, his phone buzzes with a message.

_**Tucker, pick up the phone. NOW.** _

Oh, fuckberries.

He waits for it to ring again and almost lets it go to voicemail for  the third time in as many minutes. Bizarrely, the sound of Rod Stewart is too intimidating for words when it comes attached to an angry cop. On the other hand, if he doesn't answer it he's pretty sure that Wash will figure out a way to reach through the phone and strangle him with his bare hands.

Tucker swipes to accept the call.

"Uh, hello?" he says hesitantly.

"I don't know what kind of game you two think you're playing, but it ends now," Washington says with barely controlled fury, "It's not funny--"

"We weren't trying to be funny!" Tucker tries to explain, heart hammering in his chest as panic floods through him at the first sound of Washington's voice. He's never heard this kind of...of hatred and disappointment and _hurt_ before. He never wants to hear it again. "Wash. Wash, we aren't playing any games, we're just trying to--"

"I don't care and I don't want to hear any of your excuses," Wash spits out, "This is not up for discussion. I'm warning you right now, if either of you come to my place of work again with that kind of nonsense, there will be--"

"It's not nonsense, I keep trying to tell you. Just let me talk!"

"If you come to my place of work with that kind of _bullshit_ , there will be consequences," Washington continues with a disconcerting finality. "There is a _line_ , Tucker, and you two just crossed it."

Tucker feels like he's gonna be sick. "That's not, we didn't," he stammers in dismay, struggling to explain so that he can get rid of that awful tone that makes it feel like he's talking to a stranger. "That's not what was going on."

A bitter sound comes out of Wash's throat, harsh and rough and painful to hear. "Then explain it to me," he seems to force out, "Explain it to me so that I have a reason to keep calling you a friend."

" _Wash_ \--"

"Tucker, _pleas_ e."

"Okay. Okay. We weren't...we weren't playing around," Tucker says around the lump in his throat, "It wasn't-- _isn't_ a game or a joke or anything like that. It never was. I know that's what you think, but it's not. We aren't playing around."

He clutches the phone so tight he imagines it exploding into a thousand pieces. It helps him hold on. "You're just always there, you know? Like with the car or my leg or Kai's thing in the clinic--"

Washington swallows audibly. "You heard about that."

"Yeah, Wash, I heard," he says with a huff, "You couldn't have told me earlier? Because let me just say it sucked to have that one sprung on me in the middle of trying to negotiate a threesome. Really ruins the mood."

And at that Tucker holds his breath, waiting to see where the dice falls. Waiting, to be honest, to find out whether he just ruined everything with Wash forever or made the first step in something that could be amazing.

"A threesome," Wash repeats in a strained voice, "With me?"

Tucker stares up at the ceiling and wills his heartbeat to slow down so he can think. He's been preparing for this moment for weeks, but now that it's here he feels totally clueless, completely uncertain and a little bit shy. "Yeah, um," he says blindly, "With you. And us. Together."

Washington says nothing.

"We both think you're hot," Tucker blurts out, then winces as it occurs to him that might not be the best way to start this conversation. "But we're into you too. I mean, Kai thinks you're boring, but I'm pretty sure she likes you. And she trusts you--we both do!"

Tucker sounds painfully stupid, even to his own ears. He wishes Wash would say yes or turn him down already--even an insult would be welcome at this point in time--anything to get him to stop.

"And you take care of us. You fucking take care of us all the time, but you never stick around afterwards. And, uh, you should." Fear courses through his veins even as he forces himself to say the lie. "But if you're not into us, that's cool too. I promise we won't do this shit again."

Tucker waits and holds his breath in the silence that follows, straining his ears for any sign about what might happen, praying with everything he has that Wash won't put an early stop to the best thing they could have had.

In the end he hears nothing but a tiny inhalation; a shuddery breath in and out that screams Washington's desire into the room. The only question now is whether or not he'll reach out and take what they're offering.

“Together,” Washington says quietly, "I think I can do that."

For the last few weeks there's been a voice in his head mocking him for daring to hope. It kept him awake at nights, whispering incessantly, and followed him about his day like a faithful pet who refused to leave his side. And now it's gone. It left in the space following six small words, leaving him reeling on his feet.

Nothing about this month has prepared him for Washington saying yes.

"We should go on a date," Tucker says in a rush. His mind races, trying to make plans that won't completely suck. "Soon--tomorrow! We can eat out." He bites his tongue on the expected reply. He hopes Wash appreciates the effort. "I think Kai's free then. Or she'll make herself free. Wait, are _you_ free? Because we can go another day."

"I...yes," Washington says, sounding at a lost for words. "Wait, I mean no--"

Tucker bites down hard on a knuckle.

"--I'm not free tomorrow," Wash continues, graciously ignoring Tucker's sigh of relief. Or maybe not ignoring it so much as reveling in the sound, because he sounds unbelievably happy when he speaks next. "We'll have to wait until this weekend. But yes, I'll go out with you. Both of you."

"Wash," Tucker says softly, whispering his name the way he would a lover--the way Tucker would with _Kai._ "Wash, we are gonna have so much fun."

It's gonna be awesome.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the week passes by in a giddy whirl.

He and Kai whip themselves into a frenzy in no time flat, spending the next few days running around (metaphorically, in Tucker's case) cleaning up the apartment, canceling plans, and stocking up on the essentials. The night before is particularly stressful, filled to the brim with last minutes worries they never would have freaked out about before.

"Do you think he's into being tied up?" Kai asks, gnawing anxiously on her lower lip as she peers through their toy chest. "'Cause like, you're cool with just handcuffs but he might like ropes or chains better. Maybe we should buy some?"

"Uh, maybe?"

Tucker isn't all that sure. For the first time, it occurs to him that he has no clue about what to expect. He doesn't know what Washington likes. He doesn't know if Wash prefers to take it slow and let his hands linger over skin, or take it fast and hard until his partner is gasping for air. He might love to kiss, or hate to kiss, or treat it like it's only a prelude to the main event.

Hell, he might not be into sex at all. He had a girlfriend like that once. She wasn't into banging or anything, but all he cared about back then was that a hot chick was willing to make out with him. Besides, it was _high school_. It’s not like he was any stranger to jerking it alone.

And now…

Now nothing has changed at all. He still wants Washington in his life. He still wants him around full time. He wants to steal Wash’s cereal and take him to Junior’s plays, and the day he doesn’t want that anymore is the day they bury him in the ground. When it all boils down to it, sex is nothing compared to getting to have that.

But that doesn’t mean Kai feels the same way as him.

"Wait, uh, hold on a sec," he tells her nervously. She stops in her tracks, one hand wrapped around an nine inch dildo, the other holding a bright red blindfold. He fidgets a little at the sight. "So...you're still cool with this if he doesn't want to get it on, right?"

She blinks in confusion.

Tucker winces. “Because he might not want to have sex?”

"Say whaaaat?" Kai blurts out. Her face falls and her big brown eyes going wide with shock. Bambi eyes, everyone calls them. Just like Bambi’s. He can see the resemblance. But Bambi’s mother’s eyes were big and brown too, right before she was shot to death. Kai looks more like her than she does Bambi.

"Kai,” Tucker says, panic rising up and threatening to drown him. He can’t lose this, not when he’s so close. He _can’t_. “Kai, we're still gonna do this if Wash doesn't wanna fuck us, right? I mean, I know you wanna bone him, but--"

"I thought you said he wanted to date us!"

"He does!" Tucker says quickly. He winces at the note of accusation in her voice, his arms automatically crossing in response and making him feel too damn defensive. "But just because he wants to date us doesn't mean he wants to sleep with us. Some people don't."

She scoffs. "Whatevs."

“They don’t!” he shoots back. He feels himself wilting at the strength of her glare, and the rest of his sentences comes out more quiet than he meant it to. "I'm just saying. I’m just saying that some don’t, okay?"

She rolls his eyes and looks the other way, rustling through the chest for something new. It’s so blatantly dismissive that it sends a chill down his spine, and Tucker can count the passing of the seconds by listening to his heartbeat in his ears.

"Tell me you're still cool with him joining us if he doesn't want to get fucked," Tucker says as steadily as he's capable of. "Because I want him however I can get him, but this shit won't work unless you do too."

The silence is deafening.

Fuck. _Fuck._

He stares down at the floor instead of looking at her. He should have asked earlier. He should have, but he didn't--too caught up in all his plans to ask the most important question of them all. What was he thinking? None of the rest of it matters without this.

“Kai--”

"Can _we_ still fuck?"

Tucker's head shoots up so fast he could sue her for whiplash. Hope rises up, slower to come but smoother to swallow than pain or fear. He could still choke on it if he’s not careful. It can still leave him curled up on the floor.

“Wait,” Tucker says, “Wait, what?"

Kai glances down at the dildo that's still in her hand and nervously casts it aside, peeking over at him shyly. "Um, I don't think I wanna stop having orgasms with other people, but if I can still fuck you, that's cool. At least my jaw'll get a break."

"Yeah," he croaks, "We can still fuck."

The smile she gives him makes him think about rings.

 

* * *

 

"You really think he's gonna come?"

"Maybe," Tucker says absently. He still hasn't asked about that whole sex thing, but based on the way Wash has looked at them before he's got an okay idea of how it's gonna roll. "At least a couple of times if he wants to. Hey, what do you think his stamina's like?"

Kai sticks her tongue out at him. "No, like, do you think he's gonna show up?

Oh. Yeah, that makes way more sense than what he was thinking. "He seemed pretty into it when I talked to him the other day," Tucker offers. Kind of nervous, but still into it. "It's cool, he's gonna be here any minute. He probably just got caught in traffic."

"Oh," Kai says, face smoothing back into that perky, open expression she had back when they got here ten minutes ago and didn’t have to worry about being ditched. "Or maybe he’s doing paperwork? Dakota says it takes awhile.”

Tucker smiles agreeably. "Makes sense," he says with a nod. He waits for her to go back to munching on bread sticks and blatantly eavesdropping on the other diners before glancing at his phone under the table.

No new messages.

He's not worried or anything, but Wash always calls when he's going to be late, especially for something as important as this. Hell, he once called to say he couldn't make it to movie night after getting into an honest to god car chase. There’s no way he'd call for something like that but not for this.

Not unless something happened at work. Something big, something dangerous--something bad enough to keep him from a phone or render him incapable of using one. Tucker's not worried, but he wouldn't blame Kai if she was.

"Definitely traffic," Tucker repeats.

Kai gives him a strange look and purposely cracks another stick in her mouth. She told him once that she likes the sound of it. "Shyeah, I heard you the first time," she replies, "You're right in front of me."

"I know! I'm just saying."

Her look this time is a little more skeptical. “You’re acting really weird,” she tells him, not untruthfully. He straightens up in his chair and tries to look normal, but that only gains him yet another funny look. He hates those. Maybe if Wash were here, she’d be sending them at him.

The reminder has him slumping back down with a sigh. “I’m not acting weird,” he lies again, “I’m just getting bored and hungry. Maybe we should order more appetizers.”

Kai silently holds out the last of the breadsticks.

He shakes his head. “Nah, you love those things.”

“Yeah, but I’ve already eaten like fifty of them,” Kai points out, waving it in the air enticingly. “And you didn’t have anything to eat since lunchtime. You should eat it.”

“No, I’m good, tha--”

She doesn’t want for him to finish or to even take it himself, just reaches across the table and tries to ram it in, forcing him to bat her hand away to keep it out. Unfortunately, it has absolutely no effect on her at all; if anything, it eggs her on, and Tucker can feel the tip push past his lips for a split second before he yanks his head away and yells, “Stop trying to shove that thing in my mouth!”

You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant. It's just like one of those awkward scenes in movies, only instead of everyone staring at him like he's being embarrassing, he gets two teenagers and a bunch of adults barely holding back their snickers.

"Somehow I get the feeling that this won't be the most uncomfortable moment of the night," Washington says from somewhere behind him.

Fuck.

Well that just figures, doesn't it? The one time he actually cares about looking cool in front of somebody is the first fucking time it doesn't come naturally. Tucker tilts his head all the way back and scowls at Wash. "You have the worst timing ever."

Washington smiles teasingly. "Of all time?"

"Definitely."

He has to jerk his head back down before anyone can see what that stupid upside down smile is doing to him. It's too early in the night to be that affected. He refuses to look like anymore of a dork than he already does.

Tucker glances at Kai to see if she noticed, but she’s too busy trying to interrogate Wash to concentrate on anything he’s been doing. "Did you have to shoot someone?" she asks before he even has time to relax in his chair, "Because that's _hot_."

Wash looks taken aback. "...what?"

Yeah, Tucker kind of wants to know the same thing. "Dude, what are you talking about?" he asks her, more than a little mystified himself.

"Duh, there's no traffic jams now, so he totally had to get in trouble at work," Kai tells him with a superior air. Washington looks faintly sheepish--or maybe flustered, it's hard to tell. "You were freaking out, though, so I didn't wanna tell you that you were wrong."

"I wasn't freaking out," Tucker says indignantly.

"Yuh huh," she replies, "You were being really dumb. But _I_ knew everything was okay because Dakota totally would've told me if something bad happened. That's why I thought he ditched us instead."

"I told you, he wouldn't ditch us!" Tucker protests again. He turns to his right with a look of exasperation, silently asking Wash to back him up. "Come on, does that sound like something he'd--"

He goes quiet at the expression on Washington's face. If he hadn't spent so many years memorizing that face, he probably never would have caught it. But he has. He's fluent in the language of Wash. He can read it in the barely disguised flinch and the tensed muscles that are almost screaming his guilt.

Tucker swallows hard. "You were gonna ditch us?"

The muscle in Washington's jaw clenches once more. "Not...exactly."

"What the fuck does _that_ mean?" Tucker demands. He bristles at the sound of his own voice in his ears; it sounds far too shrill to be his and way more upset than he wants it to be. "Hey, you can leave whenever you want. Nobody's making you be here."

Wash sighs. "Tucker, that's not what I meant."

He doesn't care. Seriously, at this moment he doesn't give a shit about anything else but that. It doesn't matter that Wash showed up eventually, not if he was debating abandoning them without so much as a call.

"Fuck, my leg hurts," Tucker blurts out suddenly. It's pounding at the speed of his heart and just as hard. He's been skimping on the pills lately, but maybe it's time for them to make a reappearance.

Kai frowns after going through her bag. "Uh..."

"We left them home, didn't we?"

"Um, kinda?" She checks her pocketbook again, dumping the contents all over the table: a couple of condoms, a wallet, some lube, and a spare pair of panties fall out, but no pills. "I could call my guy up and get you something."

Washington wipes a hand down his face. He looks tired and also kind of bitchy. "I am right here," he reminds them meaningfully, "Still a cop. Still sworn to uphold the law. Could you at least pretend to remember that?"

Kai scowls at him. "I thought you weren't a narc."

"I'm not!"

"You _sound_ like a narc."

Wash scoffs. "And what exactly does a narc sound like?"

She squints at him with suspicion. "I don't know, like you wanna lock me up?"

The smile Wash gives her isn't as nice as the one before. It doesn't make Tucker's stomach flutter with nerves. It makes him feel sick. "Did it ever occur to you that I wouldn't have to sound like a narc if only you'd stop offering to make drug deals while I'm two inches away?"

"Wow," Tucker says bitterly, "What a great date. One person doesn't wanna be here and another is going to get arrested. I'm so fucking glad we agreed to do this."

Washington's head snaps his way, eyes stricken with panic and distress. "You don't want to be here?" he asks in dismay. He sounds like a lost little boy afraid of being left behind in the dark, so out of character for him that it leaves Tucker reeling.

"No?" Tucker says, "Uh, I was talking about you."

" _What?_ "

Wash looks to Kai for an explanation, but she seems just as clueless. The two of them exchange glances like Tucker isn't there, going on to have a whole conversation composed solely of eyebrow raises and shoulder shrugs. It ends with Kai turning to face Tucker and flat out asking what the heck he's talking about.

"You were running out on us," Tucker says haltingly, "Because you changed your mind." Right? That's why Wash was so late to dinner. Or at least that's what he thought. Now, with the two of them staring at him like he's being stupid, he's not as sure as he was before.

Washington softens all at once. “Tucker, no, that's not what I meant," he explains gently, "I wasn't running out on you, I was just..." Wash falters and looks away, staring down at his napkin as if it's going to help him. It doesn't, but to Tucker's surprise Kai picks up where he left off.

"He was being a ginormous dork," she explains, making it sound as if it were obvious. Wash nods, but Tucker still doesn't understand, so she tugs at the wrinkled jacket that Wash is wearing to clue him in further.

"Uh, still not getting it."

"Look at his hair," she tells him. He does, but that doesn't have any signs of an answer. It's a little messy, but that's all. Kai huffs in exasperation. "He was totally waiting in the car for a while like a loser.” She shakes her head. “It's kind of sad. He's like that guy in the movie with the come in his hair."

"’There's Something About Mary’?"

She shakes her head. "What? Nooo, I was talking about Kinky Catholic Schoolboys 39. Those guys were nerds."

This time it's Washington's turn to sigh. It stops them in their tracks to hear it. There's something different about it this time, something Tucker’s never heard in it before. It doesn't have any of his usual frustration with their antics or the note of irritation that's so often there.

No, this time Washington sounds content.

Tucker feels his cheeks burn red. "W-Wait, I think I left the painkillers in the car," he stammers while twisting his head around to glance outside. He hears a small sound to his right that sounds like a chuckle, but ignores it and how dumb it makes him feel. "I'm gonna go get 'em."

"Don't be ridiculous," Washington begins, "I can--"

Their waiter pops in out of nowhere to interrupt, acting bored and impatiently snapping on a piece of gum. That would've gotten Tucker fired way back when he was working as one. "Would the three of you like to order....now...."

Tucker follows his gaze to where the pile of sex stuff still remains on the table. The asshole waiter smirks at them all, but mostly at Kai, practically leering down her shirt as he hovers over them. "Planning on having a good time tonight?"

"Yeah, so what?" she snaps defiantly. She grabs her panties and the other things and stuffs them back into her purse, but dick-for-brains doesn't let up at all. "We're all super hot. It's gonna be awesome."

"I’m sure it will be," he says, and continues staring her up and down.

Kai does that thing where she crosses her arms in a way that shoves her breasts up and gives everyone a good view. He can't tell if she forgot about that or if she's doing it on purpose; sometimes she thinks the best punishment is to give people a glimpse of what they can't have, but sometimes it's just about her being pissed. From the way her eyes are flashing, either could be true.

"Hey gloryhole," Tucker cuts in with a voice that's cool as ice, "Do you wanna stop staring or am I gonna have to hold you down while she puts her foot up your ass?"

"With my heels on, bitch!"

"And if that isn't enough of an incentive for you," Wash says smoothly, all the while running his hand down his jacket to flip it open and flash his badge, "I could always decide to ruin your night by taking you down to jail for the pot you've clearly been smoking recently."

The guy pales and looks at Wash like a frightened little lamb. "You can't do that."

Kai leans in and makes a show of sniffing the waiter. She nods and gives Wash a thumbs up, who flashes her a quick smile before making it disappear.

"I can search you based on the smell," Washington informs him. He keeps up that bland expression and even tone that's making it sound more like a promise than a threat. "Now what do you think I'll find if I do that?"

The guy takes a step back and then another, but doesn't do anything stupid like run. He hovers there like he doesn't know what to do but knows that all his options kind of suck. "Dude, you are so fucked," Tucker says just to hammer it home.

"Shit," the waiter says queasily.

"Not necessarily," Washington says, "It's possible it will slip my mind with some distance." His eyes go cold and deadly at the drop of a hat, making Tucker shiver with excitement. "For your own sake, I suggest you find us another server."

"Yeah!"

They wait for the guy to scurry away, all three of them watching as he darts over to some short guy standing by the bar and starts having a frantic conversation that quickly turns into a hushed argument. A few moments later, their waiter is stalking out the front, leaving the other dude with the most frustrated look that Tucker's ever seen.

Washington turns to Kai and says, "I'm still not a narc."

"Still don't believe you," she tells him cheerfully.

Washington rolls his eyes.

"You know, I'm pretty sure service is gonna suck for awhile thanks to you," Tucker says in amusement, "Unless they have someone who lives nearby who can come in."

"I'll make sure to leave our next server a really good tip."

They all grin at each other and bask in that awesome feeling of solidarity. Beneath the table, one of Kai's legs stretch out and brush against his own, bare foot slipping under the fabric to rest comfortably against his good ankle. It's familiar and more than a little bit nice, but it gets so much better when he feels the heat of Washington's leg join in.

They sit there, legs entwined until they feel inseparable, and for the first time in forever Tucker finally feels whole. "You really don't want to leave?" he asks Washington again, for once not caring about how vulnerable he sounds.

Washington reaches over and takes his hand. "No," he says simply, and this time Tucker can tell he means it. Wash rubs his thumbs over Tucker's knuckles, then turns to Kai and mirrors the touch. "I'm sure of it. I was just nervous. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise. Either of you."

That's all Tucker needs to know.

 

* * *

 

Once they get their new server and everyone orders their food, Washington takes the time to run out to the car to get Tucker's pills. It gives him and Kai a little time to talk about how they're gonna do this.

"Okay, so what's the game plan?" he asks her as soon as Wash is out the door, "Are we gonna be all hardcore flirty or should we try to keep it chill so he doesn't freak out?" He hates to say it, but neither of them have much experience with this kind of thing. Still, two heads have gotta be better than one. "How are we going to get him to stay?"

She wrinkles her nose. "I think he already wants to stay."

"Yeah, for now," he points out, "But what if we start arguing again? He's not going to stick around if he doesn't want to be here."

"What?" she says, "We weren't arguing! We were playing footsie ever since he sat down." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "I was gonna put my foot in his lap and start jerking him off, but I remembered what you said about sex."

"What?" Tucker echoes.

"You kept ruining the mood," she says reproachfully, "Not cool, dude. Not cool."

Tucker tips his head back to blink up at the ceiling. That's what Wash said, he remembers suddenly, not too long ago at lunch. Or something like it, anyway. Wash made it sound like he and Kai were never arguing as much as Tucker thought. He made it sound like Tucker was blind.

With that in mind, he pauses and reconsiders all the evidence, all the memories and actions he's been dismissing all along. If they've been acting that way all along...if Wash was right about treating her the way he does Tucker...if _Kai_ has been doing the same...

"Oh," Tucker says, feeling more than a little stunned, "How long have you guys been in love with each other?"

Kai becomes very interested in her napkin.

As such, neither of them notices that Wash has come back until he places the bottle of pills by Tucker's plate. "Awhile," Wash says quietly. He glances as Kai while he sits back down, but she refuses to look up. "At least for me."

Tucker nods. "How long?"

"It's hard to say."

Tucker wouldn't know. He remembers the moment he realized he was in love with them. With Kai, it was the first time he saw her teaching Junior how to dance. With Wash, it was the moment Tucker walked straight into a robbery just in time to see Wash get shot. Both times, his feelings for them were as clear day.

Wash hesitates. "I think...with you, it when you walked into the grocery store and I went down," he says, causing Tucker to freeze in place. "I was shot, but all I could think about was making sure that you and Caboose were safe. Especially you."

Wash's eyes flicker back to Kai, who has moved on to folding her her napkin into some kind of animal. "With her, it was different. I disliked her." Kai stiffens at that. "I disliked her for years and it was hard to move past that. But I got to watch her with you all the time."

Wash's fingers trail along the white tablecloth and up her arm before finding their way into her hair. He smoothes back the tiny wisps that escaped her ponytail, petting her until she looks up. When she does, he speaks directly to her, words as soft and earnest as they need to be. "You were outrageous and frustrating and you made everything interesting," he says, "And you and Tucker were so good for each other. After awhile, I couldn't tell who I was jealous of."

Kai's jerks her head in a nod. Her hands are shaking, Tucker notices, but when she sees him looking at them she yanks them underneath the table. Even with him, some things are too private for her to show. "Do you like sex?" she blurts out all of a sudden.

Wash startles and looks over at Tucker with a question in his eyes.

"She’s talking to you," Tucker explains unhelpfully. He ignores the dirty look that Wash sends his way and nods in Kai's direction. She’s sitting there looking sad and on edge, and Tucker can see the moment when Washington realizes how serious she is.

Wash gives Tucker one last worried glance before answering. He still doesn’t seem one hundred percent sure why they’re having this discussion, but he’s still willing to play along. "I--yes, I enjoy sex," he responds, letting his hand fall back down to the table, "Most of the time."

It's enough to get Kai to relax in her chair again. "Tucker says not everyone does," she explains with a nod. She peeks up at them for a moment and then back down, tugging her napkin apart so she can start anew.

"He's right," Washington agrees, though his voice holds a hint of surprise. Later on, Tucker will tell him exactly why that’s so insulting. For now, there are other things that are far too important to ignore.

Like Kai, who fidgets even as she keeps explaining. "And, like, I told him it was okay if we didn't bang? And I guess I mean it. Anyway, that's how I knew." She lowers her eyelashes. "It's not cool like your stories," she says self-consciously.

"No, it's--" Washington clears his throat, looking a little self-conscious himself. "It's...good. Thank you." He swallows hard, and with the air of someone being daring, he brings his hand up once again and runs his palm over her skin until he's cupping her neck, thumb resting gently over her pulse. "I would still want you too," he tells her.

Kai can't look away. Tucker doesn't want, too caught up in the way she's inches from from coming apart at those words. If he had known she needed someone to tell her that, he would've said it a million times. "Hey Kai," he says, waiting for her eyes to flicker his way, "Same goes for me."

She holds his gaze for a long time as she tries to figure out if he means it or not. He wonders how many people have over the years. How many people only cared about her if she was putting out. It must not have been very many if she's nearly shivering at the possibility of two.

"Whoa, okay, heavy conversation for a first date," Tucker jokes to break some of the tension. Unfortunately, it works a little too well. Wash's hands drop from her without a second thought as he backs away stiffly, something which leaves Kai flashing anger Tucker's way. "Uh, sorry?"

"You suck," Kai mouths, but Washington shakes his head to signal it's okay. He's not sure any of them really believe that, not with Kai making rude signs with her fingers.

"I thought you were going to get all twitchy," Tucker defends himself, "You guys hate all that mushy emotional crap. You were freaking out all week."

Washington's face spasms as if to prove his point.

"See?" Tucker says, "Twitchy!"

"You really are the worst person," Wash informs him with a sigh. And maybe he is, because despite his attempt to fix everything before it got awkward, the conversation never returns to the post-douchebag ease of before. By the time their food arrives, they've actually been reduced to small talk of all things.

"You should take your pills," Wash reminds him just as Tucker is about to dig in, "Even if the pain has dissipated for now, I doubt you want it to come back tonight."

Tucker feels a smirk crawl up his face. "Why? Do you have plans for me later?"

"Yes," Wash says evenly, "I do."

_Holy shit._

Tucker's eyes have to be bugging out in the least attractive way possible, but he can't help himself. He's spent so long wanting to hear those words, wanting to tease and not worry about being turned down; but now that the moment's here he doesn't know how to respond.

"Uh, we could leave right now," Tucker suggests. He glances over at Kai, who is already squirming in her seat, looking just as excited as he feels. "I'm cool with it. Kai, are you cool with it?"

"Uh huh! Totally!"

"No. Eat your gnocchi," Washington tells Tucker, lips curving up in amusement, "And take your pills. I know you can be more patient than this."

"I'm sick of being patient," Tucker grumbles, but he opens the bottle and taps a one out anyway, effortlessly swallowing it down dry. Good thing, too, because gagging on a tiny pill wouldn't show off his real skills all that well and Tucker's got a reputation to keep.

"Eat it super fast," Kai advises. She slurps up a long strand of noodles dripping in sauce; like always, it finds its way onto her clothes, splattering little red dots over the place. Tucker grins at the sight of another shirt lost to spaghetti night.

He winks at Washington again. "Don't worry. We won't go fast unless you want us to," he says slyly, and then purposely ruins his amazing innuendo by waggling his eyebrows dramatically. Wash bursts into laughter and Kai soon follows, her giggles harmonizing with his as if their voices were meant to go together.

And hey, maybe they were.

 

* * *

 

They take their time with each other during dinner, sticking with the small talk and stumbling over topics as if they've only just met. As if they haven't already seen each other at their worst. As if they haven't already seen each other at their best. As if they haven't loved each other for years in secret.

Somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more real.

By the time they've scraped the last of the food off their plates and are filled to the brim with more pasta than they thought they could eat, the peace and pleasure radiating from their table is enough to make Tucker feel dizzy and drunk.

"Dessert?" Wash suggests.

"Hell yeah," Tucker says with a grin, "How about we get out of here and get started on it?" He high fives Kai before Washington has time to react, reveling in both her impish smile and Wash's eye roll.

"Not exactly what I meant, but fine."

"Yesss," Kai hisses triumphantly. She pumps her fist and dances in her seat, enthusiasm evident in every action. "Time to get laid. Woohoo!"

Wash winces at how loud she is, but his momentary discomfort is no match for the urgency that has set in. The way he fumbles for his wallet and throws money down without looking at the bills makes it clear that he wants it as much as they do.

"You can pay next time if that's what's bothering you," Wash says, missing the point entirely when he sees Tucker looking. Tucker's grin stretches wider. "Or Kaikaina can."

"Sure," Kai agrees, "I always wanted to be a sugar mama!"

"Why does that not surprise me?"

Washington misses Kai turning a scowl his way as he cranes his head around to scan the room for their waitress. "Don't worry," Tucker tells her to soften the implied blow, "You can be my sugar mama any day of the week."

Tucker nudges Wash under the table with the tip of his boot. Washington turns back with a curious look, but he doesn't get it right off the bat. It's not until he sees Kai's pout that he realizes she meant it.

"Mine as well," Wash says awkwardly, "I'm sure you would be great at it."

The smile that bursts from Kai could light up the night sky all on its own. She beams at them like they paid her the highest of compliments--and fuck, maybe in her head they kind of did. Kai's always been a little funny that way.

Wash wants them to stick around long enough to make sure the waitress knows they payed, but they just barely convince him that it will be okay to go. "I'm pretty sure she's not gonna mind once she sees the _forty dollar tip_ you gave her," Tucker points out, and yeah, Wash definitely wasn't paying attention earlier if the way he startles is any indication.

"I--fine, let's go," Washington says, looking faintly embarrassed.

The others take the lead on the way to the car, but the closer they get the slower Tucker walks, and for once it has nothing to do with his cast. "We bought a _lot_ of stuff," Kai says as she trots along at Wash's side, "Because we didn't know what you'd like? Or your size. So some of the stuff might not fit, but the panties should be cool."

Washington's back goes straight as a board. "You don't have to wear them," Tucker blurts out before Wash can say anything, "They're just there in case you want to."

"Duh," Kai says, "I refuse to wear panties all the time and no one ever says anything. Well, except for Grif. But he's a total hypocrite because he never wears underwear either! He just wears them until they're full of holes and fall apart and then he doesn't wear any until Simmons notices and buys him some more!"

The mental pictures are something else.

" _Ugh_ ," Tucker says.

"My thoughts exactly," Washington mutters over his shoulder. His gaze meets Tucker's for a second and they share a smile that pushes down on the worry that's starting to rise up. Just a little. Just enough for Tucker to remember it's there.

"So, uh, how are we going to do this?" Tucker says once they're in sight of the car. He watches in dismay as Kai reaches into her purse for the keys. "Maybe we should go home together," he says quickly, "In one car. It'll be all convenient and shit."

"Convenient. That's one word for it," Washington says drily. He arches a brow, which Kai immediately mirrors. "And how am I supposed to get to work tomorrow? Or is that part of your plan?"

Tucker forces a grin on his face. "Hey, why not?" he says with a careless wave of the hand. He spreads his arms out wide as if offering everything up. "No one said we had to make it easy for you to leave."

Kai hops up on the hood and sprawls on top. With all her curves and that naughty look on her face, she reminds him of one of those old fashioned pin-up models from the forties. It's a good look--a _really_ good look, and Wash reaches out for her without thinking.

"We could always tie him to the bed," she suggests, watching them through heavy lids. She waits until they turn their eyes her way and then crosses her legs, skirt slowly sliding up to reveal tanned thighs.

Washington jerks his hand away before he touches skin. He swallows visibly and takes a full step away, putting some distance between her and himself. "We should go," he says with difficulty, "It's starting to get late."

Fuck _that_. Tucker won't let Wash talk himself out of anything else.

Washington needs to learn that he can have this whenever he wants. He needs to know that he can watch, can touch, can _taste_ without having to feel guilty about it, and if Tucker has to guide him to that realization then that's what he will do.

And so Tucker stretches out his arm and takes Wash's hand into his own. Washington looks surprised, but pleased, entwining their fingers together immediately as if even this is a luxury he can't believe he has. It makes it easier to tug him forward, to pull him into Kai's orbit where it's  harder to escape.

"You know you can, right?" Tucker says quietly. He takes their hands and does what Wash couldn't bring himself to do, letting their linked fingers brush against the naked skin of her thigh. It only barely counts as a caress, but Kai takes a shuddery breath that Washington echoes, gasping as if he's the one being touched.

Tucker flattens their palms out while Wash is still recovering, hand disentangling and slipping out to cover Washington's in a firm hold; his hand isn't as large, but it's just as strong, and more than capable of guiding the way.

"Tucker," Wash whispers.

"Chill out, okay? You're gonna like this."

Their fingers trace over the edges of her skirt, aimlessly mapping out the curves that peek out. They glide over soft skin and muscled thighs, trail over knobby knees, slowly making their way down to tease over calves that twitch at their touch.

Kai squeaks and pushes into the contact. She's always been sensitive there. Washington looks fascinated by the information, hand pressing on without Tucker needing to push it and stroking them once more, eyes flashing when it causes her to wriggle and squirm.

"Get in the car," Washington says. His voice is even but his eyes are wild, and it's clear that he's barely holding on. "Get in the car right now. We're going."

Tucker has to scramble mentally to keep up, but he lights up once the synapses fire, the order filling him with relief. "You're coming with us? I mean, in the same car?"

"No," Wash says distractedly, cocking his head as Kai crawls in through the passenger side window instead of going the long way around. He blatantly admires the way her skirt bunches up to flash some skin. "I'm taking mine. It's only a couple of blocks away, so you won't beat me home by much."

Even the sound of Washington calling their place his own isn't enough to block out the queasy twist in his stomach at the plan. "I can drive with you," he tries to say, but the sound of the key in the ignition makes him falter, makes the words fade before they get out. He tries again. "That way we don't have to get dressed to answer the door when you show up."

Washington frowns, eyes flickering over Tucker's face as he instinctively moves closer to make this conversation private. "I have a key," he points out, "You know that. You're the one who gave it to me. Now what's all this about?"

"Nothing," Tucker lies, "I just don't want to get yelled at by the landlord again. I mean, you open the door in nothing but a g-string one time and suddenly you're being labeled a public menace. What's up with that?"

Wash's frown relaxes into a sardonic smile. "How inconsiderate of them to expect you to uphold public decency standards."

"I know, right?"

The car horn honks and startles them both. "I don't hear people having sex," Kai says loudly, one hand hovering over the wheel in a threatening way. She leans over the passenger side seat to glare at them and honks again.

Tucker winces. He and Washington exchange rueful shrugs. "We should go," Wash tells him, already backing away, "I'll be there a few minutes after. _Don't_ answer the door nude, I'll let myself in. And don't--"

"Wait!" Tucker says in a panic.

Washington freezes in surprise. Even Kai loses her tinge of impatience, and the vibe coming from inside the car changes from exasperation to curiosity with a hint of concern. "Tucker?" he says, "Are you..."

Tucker lowers his gaze to the sidewalk. He knows how dumb it is to worry after the million yeses he got tonight, but part of him still knows it can be taken away. "Uh, just for the record," he says, "You're not gonna change your mind if we leave you alone on the drive over, right?"

A touch to his jaw has him raising his chin.

Wash studies him, searching for something only he knows, regret flitting through his dark grey eyes when he finds whatever he's looking for. "I won't," he says softly. He ducks down and presses their lips together, mouths opening for each other like they've done this a million times before. "I'm not going to change my mind."

"Psssh, like you could," Kai says out of nowhere. Tucker doesn't startle this time, but he pretends that he does, using it as an excuse to slide into Washington's arms. "We're like, _super hot_. Plus, I once got a nun to go down on me in one of those punishment boxes and I wasn't even trying, and your cop has gotta be way easier than that"

"He's not my cop!" Tucker says for the hundredth time. He feels those warm arms squeeze around him, pulling him closer into Wash's embrace. Tucker's cheeks go embarrassingly warm in response. "He's _our_ cop. Or whatever. Okay, time to go." Preferably before Tucker makes himself look like anymore of an ass than he already has.

He pretends he doesn't notice them trading glances over his head as he makes his escape into the car. He pretends he doesn't hear them, too, especially when Kai leans over him and says, "He was way cooler when he was just dating me."

Washington smiles. "He really wasn't."

"Yeah," Tucker says in a moment of honesty, "I kinda gotta go with Wash on this one."

When it comes to them he's always been stupid.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, do you think we should start without him, or—"

Tucker stops speaking. There's no point in finishing that sentence right now, not with Kai unbuttoning her shirt before the elevator doors even have time to close.

"That chick who works the day shift? She says the smelly old dude who runs the security cameras at night takes a _lot_ of Viagra," she informs him, scrunching her nose up at the thought, "So he's totally gonna have a boner right now."

"He always has a boner when you're around."

"I know," she says glumly, "Wrinkly dicks are super gross."

"Yeah, I haven't looked at a lot of old dude dicks, but I'm pretty sure they don't get..." But then that's probably not helping, or even the point. He pats her consolingly on the back. "Don't worry, you're gonna see way better boners in a couple of minutes."

Kai brightens at the reminder, smile bursting out like the sun in the middle of a storm. He can't help but smile back when she's beaming like this; something about the startling sweetness in it makes it nearly impossible to resist. He pulls her in so he can enjoy it up close.

They sway together as they watch the numbers flicker past on their way up to the twenty second floor. She's warm in his arms, solid and familiar, and the smell of her hair brings to mind hundreds of memories of sleepy morning lie-ins and happy nights.

(One day he will smell this and remember three instead of two, but for the next few moments he breathes her in and remembers the first time he wanted to hold her forever.)

The elevator goes ding and the doors open on their floor.

Kai slips out of his arms and into the hall, one hand coming up to press against the metal to keep it open. Tucker doesn't really need it anymore, not with a walking cast, but it's a nice gesture.

"Tucker?" she says as they walk down the hall, peering over at with a serious expression as though she's got something important to say, "I don't know if I'll wanna bang you if your dick gets weird looking when we're old."

He kisses the crown of her head. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'll get dick surgery just for you," he tells her solemnly, "The best plastic surgery money can buy. It'll look twenty years old again."

Kai gives a little hum of contentment.

They let themselves into the apartment and don't bother to lock the doors behind them. They're too dreamy for that, too fuzzy from their sense of satisfaction to remember little details. The urgency of earlier is all but gone, left behind with all their worries and doubts.

They strip down anyway. They help with buttons and zippers, hands drifting everywhere, smoothing over shoulders and hips until flesh is bared. And then, when nothing is left between them but skin and muscles and tendons and bone, they sprawl together with their limbs entwined.

Minutes later, the small snick of the door opening tells them they're no longer alone. Tucker smiles as he listens to the pause at the doorway, wondering what Wash makes of the lack of moans, of the trail of clothing that leads not into the bedroom, but into the living room where silence reigns.

Tucker runs his hands up Kai's back just to hear her make a happy sigh. The door closes and Washington moves forward at the sound, footsteps drawing nearer until he's looming over the back of the couch, peering down at their naked bodies.

"This isn't what I expected to see when I walked in here," Wash admits. "But I can't say I'm disappointed with the view."

Tucker feels Kai smile against his chest. She cranes her neck at an awkward angle to get a better look, but when that fails she twists her body instead. In her eagerness, she forgets that the two of them are still wrapped around each other.

"Be careful," Wash says sharply when she knocks against Tucker's cast, "That couch isn't big enough for the two of you. You could have hurt him."

Tucker bristles at his tone, but Kai doesn't bat an eye. "Big enough for us all to bang on," she retorts, then sticks her tongue out at him like a little kid. "But you suck, so we're not gonna let you. You only get to watch."

Wash laughs fondly. “Is that supposed to be a punishment?”

The last time they were in the living room, the mere suggestion of Kai and Tucker having sex was enough to make Washington stiff and irritable. Funny how much things can change in a couple of weeks.

" _Yeah_ ," Kai insists, head still tilted at an awkward angle despite the shift, "It’s awesome. You'll get super jealous and beg us to let you touch us." She pauses, wrinkling her nose, and with an irritation huff she twists around one last time and comes up on her knees to get herself into a better position.

And what a position it is.

Tucker's got a front row seat to the best goddamn show in the house. No matter how often he gets to see her like this it's still enough to make him catch his breath every time. Her hair flowing around her shoulders, her bare breasts, the curve of her belly and ample hips. Tucker runs his hands over her sides and lazily thrusts up against her.

Wash makes a small noise.

Kai uses her hair to hide the sly look on her face from Wash. Do it again, she mouths, then moans like a porn star when he delivers, arching her back as he thrusts against her. There's something about rocking together when they're naked like this, when it's not about sex but about who's watching...

It feels like dancing.

Like all those nights they spend grinding in the club knowing that Wash's eyes were on them the entire time. They always got off on that knowledge, always took it just a little too far, hands slipping under clothes to rub against each other so they'd smell like sex when they sat back down.

Caught up in the memory, he uses a single finger to trace a line up her cunt, pressure too light to be anything but a tease. Her second moan is so much more sincere than the last. It's pulled from her as she shivers in his arms, as she arches into his touch, as she starts to get slick with her own want so much faster than she usually does.

When their eyes meet, he thinks he knows why. He's not the only one who thinks this is familiar. He's not the only one caught up in the past. And, he remembers suddenly, he's not the only one who has been waiting forever for Wash to stop watching.

"You good?" Tucker murmurs, meaning something else entirely. Meaning: how far do you wanna take this? and _do you really want to have Round One without him after all this time?_ But Kai has always been twice as stubborn as she is anything else, and her strong hands wrap around his wrist in a steel grip, stopping the tease, forcing it down to press against her and rub her just the way she wants.

Tucker smirks as she begins to rock against him in earnest, hips jerking wildly as she moves against him like a horny teenager. He eggs her on with his words, with his touch. He skims her hips, traces abs, makes his way up her chest until his fingers brush the underside of one of her breasts. He reaches up to cup it in his hand, thumb tracing circles around the areola—and then he hears the one thing that could actually distract him from what he is doing: a small inhalation coming from his left.

His eyes meet Washington’s and holds for a moment.

When Wash breaks he does it with his whole body. It starts with a shudder, a shiver that crawls up weak legs and makes him grasp at the back of the couch for something to hold on to. From there it moves on to hands that twitch from the urge to reach out, up to lips that part and pant for air, and then finally to eyes that are filled with everything Wash has ever kept hidden.

"Alright," Washington says hoarsely, "I think I've learned my lesson enough for one night." He runs shaky fingers through his hair. "For a thousand nights. For a lifetime."

"Told...you so..." Kai pants between thrusts.

Tucker tweaks her for bragging about about it. "Dude, ignore her," he says when Washington starts looking peevish, "She gets smug whenever she turns someone on on purpose."

In revenge she lets go of his wrist and wraps a hand around him and oh fuck, it's not the one he thought she'd pick. It's the wet one, the one she used to touch herself, and it glides smoothly over his dick and feels so fucking good he gasps aloud.

"For the record," Washington says, "I don't think that's going to get him to shut up anytime soon."

"That's what— _fuck_ , that's what I said before!"

Kai scoffs.

Washington's gaze is steady on her pumping hand. "But on the other hand, I don't think I care," he says, "Still, we should probably move this to the bedroom if we're going to do this."

Kai throws her hands up in the air with an excited shout, bouncing breasts almost enough to make him forget the sudden aching of his cock. She rolls and manages to climb off of him without hitting his cast and then holds out a hand to help him up.

They're both still very naked, and the room is suddenly so much cooler without each other's warmth. "Hey, uh, Wash," Tucker jokes nervously as they (or at least he) walk awkwardly around the couch, "Do me a favor and look at my nipples, not my dick."

Washington, of course, looks down immediately.

Despite the circumstances, it's nice to see him openly staring for once. Not like he was staring before, like he couldn't help it, but like he's staring just because he wants to and knows that he can. It puts a swagger in Tucker's walk.

"Is your leg still hurting you?" Wash asks with a frown.

Tucker scowls and stalks into the bedroom as best as he can, hitting the overhead on his way to the bed—which means, of course, that he has plenty of light to watch while Kai saunters in with all the swagger in the world, "That is so unfair," he mutters.

"Stay jealous, bitch," Kai says breezily, winking at Tucker as she flops down beside him.

They turn back to Washington in time to see him draw to a halt a few feet away."Your leg," he begins warily, "I know you two have been having sex on a regular basis, but are you sure—"

"Ugh. Seriously?"

"He's totally good to go," Kai agrees, "Like, okay, you have to be careful when you fuck him, but there's nothing wrong with his mouth, right? So he can still give you head and stuff really easily. You just can't—"

Tucker blanks out on the rest of the explanation, heart racing so loud he can barely hear himself think. There is only one thing that pierces through the drumline in his skull, one word that has enough power to break through the noise:

The word yes.

 _Yes_ , he thinks over and over again, _yes, yes, yes._ He wants that, wants to feel Wash grow thick and hard in his mouth, wants to feel Wash's dick rubbing over his tongue, wants to make Washington lose control.

"Yes," Tucker breathes, "Yeah, fuck, can we do that? Can I give him head?"

The bed shifts again as Kai crawls up behind him, knees settling on either side of his, inching closer until their bodies are molded together and there's not an inch of space between them. Her breasts press against back, nipples small peaks against either side of his spine as she sends kisses down the side of his neck.

"Oooh," she says, a small thrill in her voice, "I can climb on top of you while he's fucking your mouth. And if he doesn't come then he can totally hop off and fuck me too! Double team time, wassup!"

"Oh shit, yeah, your idea is way better than mine," Tucker blurts out. His dick, already hard, gives another twitch at the thought, rising up to touch his belly. "Let's do that instead. Can we do that?"

Washington swallows hard. "Yes. We can do that," he replies, sounding dazed and strangled. His eyes flicker down to Tucker's mouth before darting down again. His freckles disappear under the red of his flush, grey eyes going black with lust. "We can definitely do that."

Kai wraps a celebratory hand around Tucker's dick.

His eyes slam shut on his pleasure. She's good at this, she always has been, her fingers more clever and hands more practiced than anyone he's ever slept with before. But the moan she tears out of him has less to do with wanting than it has to with waiting, and less with history than it does the future.

And then he hears another moan.

Tucker opens his eyes to the sight of Washington stripped of everything but his underwear, fabric perfectly outlining the shape of his cock. He reels for a moment, mind stalling as he wonders when Washington had time to do that, but then that smarter side of him controlled by his dick sits up and takes notice and everything makes sense again.

Washington is locked on the sight of Kai pushing Tucker closer to the brink. He stands there stock still and almost hypnotized, growing harder with every tug and breathing heavier with every groan that Tucker makes. He palms himself and his whole body shakes.

Tucker smirks when Washington shudders at that first touch. "Been—" he cuts himself off with a grunt as Kai swipes her thumb over his slit, "Been, uh, been awhile for you, huh? Because you're acting like—"

Washington’s breath hitches. “And what’s your excuse? At least I—"

"You should suck him off now," Kai whispers hot into his ear. She nips at the lobe, tugging gently, hand still pumping all the while. Her other hand is moving between their bodies, knuckles rubbing against his tailbone as she makes circles over her clit.

"Mmm, yeah," he replied, getting off a little on the urgency in her voice. He's going to enjoy this. They're all going to enjoy this. And as much as he wants to keep teasing Wash, he wants something solid to hold on to more. "Wash, c'mere, I want—"

He doesn't have to say anything more. Wash crosses the distance between them in one long stride, fingers diving into Tucker's hair as he bends down to kiss him within an inch of his life. It gets dirty within the span of two heartbeats, mouths opening for each other, tongues flickering in and out, sweeping and exploring and more like a call and response than a battle.

Moments or minutes later, Washington pulls himself away.

Tucker can't help but stare. Wash is flushed and beautiful standing there, all smooth skin and abs like diamond, like some statue held up in a museum for everyone to admire. "But with a bigger dick," Kai says, hand shifting up to tweak at one of his nipples.

Sadly, the burst of pleasure isn't nearly enough to distract him from the realization that he said all that out loud. Tucker feels himself going red, cheeks burning as the others catch him exposed and defenseless.

Washington stares down at him in shock. "Tucker—"

Nope, not gonna happen.

Tucker leans down and sucks on the head of Wash’s cock through the fabric. Washington groans like it's being ripped from his throat, cursing wildly, hands stalling so abruptly in Tucker's hair that it's clear he wants to tug and can't.

"It's cool," Kai says breathily, "He _really_ likes it when you pull his hair."

Tucker hums his agreement. Wash's hips jerk up, pressing hard against his mouth, so he licks over the bulge in front of him, painting a long wet strip over the fabric. He pulls back, admiring the way it clings to Wash. And then— _oh, fuck_ —Washington smooths over Tucker's hair before tugging on it for real, and the star fire burst of pleasure he feels has him falling dizzily against Wash's chest.

"Wash," he says, voice cracking on the name, "Wash, do that again." He does and Tucker helplessly presses his mouth against bare skin, lips trailing dozens of tiny kisses over muscles that jump at the touch.

"I see what you mean," Tucker hears distantly.

"You should try it when he's got his tongue in you."  

Tucker's fingers hook into the band of Washington's boxers, tugging it down, teasing himself with a glimpse of skin while he hungrily rubs his mouth over what is bared. "You'd need to get your underwear off first," he hints unsubtly, nipping at the hip in front of him with a smile.

Washington tugs sharply on his hair again, nearly causing Tucker to white out. "Then maybe you should do something about it."

"Uh, or maybe you should both stop talking about it and just do it?" Kai says in exasperation. She leans around Tucker with both arms outstretched, yanking the boxers down with one quick motion. "You guys are dorks."

Tucker doesn't pay any attention to Wash's response, too busy staring at the newly-freed cock in front of him to focus on anything else. He can't help it; his mouth waters at the sight of it, long and hard, rubbing against his cheek when he leans in. It feels so good that he does it again, nuzzling against it again on purpose.

Wash makes a strangled noise. "Condom," he chokes out, the only one of them to remember. It's been so long since either of them had to use one for head. "Kaikaina— _Kai._ Get condoms, please."

Laughing, she rolls off Tucker and sprawls across the bed, stretching for the bedside table instead of getting up. "Oh my god," she crows in delight, peeking over her shoulder while she searches by touch, "You are so weak."

Wash's hands clench in Tucker's hair, then very carefully lets go of the strands, detangling himself like he's got a point to prove. In revenge, Tucker breathes hot and heavy against him just to be a dick about it, grinning when it causes Wash to twitch, abs flexing as he struggles to control himself.

" _Tucker_ ," Washington says warningly.

There's a growl in his voice that wasn't there before.  A dark note, wild and uncontrollable and foreign to his ears. He shivers to hear it, a frisson of excitement coming over him at the hint of danger. Behind him, the sound of Kai's rustling trails off and then stops completely.

Kai clears her throat, drawing their attention back to her. "Maybe you should punish him," she suggests craftily. She shifts and throws a small box on the bed between them. "Like I did you. You could fuck me now instead. It'll serve him right."

Tucker cannot believe the words that are coming out of her mouth. "You are a total fucking sex traitor, you know that?” he says, pulling back to stare at her accusingly, “I thought you'd have my back."

She waves a careless hand in the air. "Noo, I thought about that, but then I was like, 'Why should he get to have all the fun? I'm the only one here who can come more than once. It should totally be me.'"

Washington groans. He wraps a hand around his dick and slowly—so slowly that it almost distracts them from fighting over him—pumps his hand, working himself like the best of pornos. "Tell me," he says, looking at them through heavy lids, "Do I get a say in this at all?"

"No," Tucker says.

And then quick as a whip he scrambles to get a hold of the condoms, stretching his body across the small distance before anyone can figure out what he's doing. Unfortunately, Kai is canny when it comes to acts of war, and a fuckton quicker than he is any day. She snatches the box right from his fingers and throws herself into Washington's arms.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she chants with all the eagerness of a kid trying to get the teacher's attention, "I'm way better at sex than he is—"

"Hey!"

"And I do Kegels like a pro—"

"Like a professional _what?_ "

"And I totally fucked a clown that one time, so I know how to fit lots of big things in small spaces!"

"So—wait, what?"

Washington shocks them both by bursting into sudden and completely uncontrollable laughter. He's nearly curled over with the force of it, half-bent over Kai as he struggles to stand up straight. "How," he gasps out, "How about we just stick to the original plan?"

Kai looks up at him with an almost comical amount of suspicion. "Depends," she says, "Are you still gonna do the growly thing? Because that was hot."

Wash struggles to keep a straight face. "I'll do my best."

Happiness is a good look on Wash. It takes years off him, a decade's worth of stress disappearing in a blink, even the strands of grey seeming to disappear in the light. He feels like he’s been waiting forever to see this, but he doesn’t say any of the words he wants to say. He's been made vulnerable enough for one day.

"So what are we waiting for, then?" Tucker asks flippantly. He pulls himself up until he's lying horizontally on bed, leaving himself open for them. "Let's start this shit before my dick explodes."

Wash smiles down at him, eyes filled with warmth.

Kai is the first one to move. She leaves Washington's arms in a blink, crawling up the bed to straddle Tucker, one hand resting comfortably on his chest. She strokes it fondly, smiling her secret smile when Wash comes up behind her to press a kiss against her neck, her back, moving down until he disappears from sight.

Kai's eyes flutter shut on a sigh. She bows over Tucker, bending until their bodies touch, lips moving unerringly to his just in time to gasp Wash's name against his mouth. Tucker breathes the sound in, cradling her head close so that he doesn't miss a single cry.

" _Wash_ ," she moans, and _yes_ and _more_. _Harder_ and _faster_ and _there there there_. He swallows it all into his lungs and buries it like stolen treasure in his chest, kissing her when she comes and holding her when she cannot move.

The bed shifts as Wash comes up beside them, face and lips still wet and shiny from going down on her. He looks like cat who ate the canary. Tucker wants to make a joke about eating and pussies, but can't figure out how to phrase it exactly.

"You look proud of yourself," Tucker says instead.

"I am," Washington tells him smugly. He slides his palm over her ass and slips it down to brush against her, causing her to squeal and wriggle on Tucker's chest. "I definitely am."

"Yeah," Tucker says, already more than a little distracted, "Yeah, that's good. Now c'mere for a sec, I've got something I want to do." Tucker waits until he crawls close enough to grab him by the shoulder and pull him down, licking into his mouth for a taste of her.

Wash moans and instantly sinks into him. Kai makes room for him on Tucker's chest, lazily shifting over to give Wash more space, running her fingers down his spine the second he settles in with them.

"Alright," Wash says, breathing heavily when he tears himself away moments later, "Alright, we should—" He rolls away without finishing his sentence, hopping off the bed and sidling around the room until he's hovering on the side of the bed closest to their heads.

"What are you doing?" Kai asks curiously. She rises off of Tucker to get a better look, going to her knees on the middle of the bed. "Why aren't you still cuddling with us?"

"Whoa," Tucker says, "We were _not_ cuddling, okay? We—"

He startles when Washington pulls him down, gently tugging him until his head is partially dangling over the side, supported by only a small portion of the bed. Tucker tests it, tilting his head back as far as it goes. It's not so bad. He could stay like this awhile if he had to—and judging by Washington's dick waving above him, Tucker just might have to.

Kai catches on around the same time he does. "Why are you gonna do it like that?" she asks, giving Wash a quizzical look even as she opens the box of condoms. She takes two out and throws the box side, bringing one of the wrappers to her teeth.

Washington runs a single finger down Tucker's throat. "I wanted to give you more room," he explains absentmindedly, "And hopefully lower the possibility of hurting Tucker's leg any more than it already is."

"Oh," Kai says.

"And," Wash says in a very low voice, "Because I want to watch you on top of him."

It hits them like a hammer to the head, just like before. Kai takes a shuddery breath. Tucker's mouth goes instantly dry. They both start paying a lot more attention. "Holy shit," Tucker says, "Is that your cop voice? Remind me to get arrested more often."

"Please don't," Washington says.

"But it's awesome," Kai protests, "It makes you sound like a total badass. Like, I'm pretty sure my nipples learned a new trick!"

Their eyes flicker to her chest, but it looks normal enough.

"They kinda hurt," she explains, rubbing circles around them, "And they don't usually get this sensitive until I've been using the nipple clamps for awhile."

Tucker has a great view of how much Washington likes that mental image. He grins and raises his head as much as he can, blowing air on Wash's dick again to make him curse. "We can bring 'em out now if you like the idea so much," he suggests. He wiggles his eyebrows. "Mine get pretty sensitive too."

"Maybe later," Wash says wistfully.

"We can do it whenever," Tucker reminds him. This isn't just a one off, it's an 'as long as Wash wants them' kind of thing, and if Tucker gets his way that's for a very long time. "Tomorrow or in a couple of months, I don't care."

Washington studies him to see if he means it.

"Dude, you're stuck with us," Tucker jokes, "Just get over it already."

"No, I don't think I will," Washington says seriously, but before Tucker can think up a response or swallow past the sudden lump in his throat, Kai is springing into action.

"Here," she says, throwing something straight at Tucker's face. "Stop being sappy and start banging."

He tilts his head up to glare at her, condom wrapper falling to the floor. "You almost took out my eye with that!" he says indignantly.

She responds by taking a hold of his dick, which is a pretty good comeback in his opinion. She jerks him back to full hardness to the tune of another wrapper tearing open, and then he tilts his head back all the way and is surrounded on both sides once again.

Tucker has to crane his head to get another taste.

It's not like other blowjobs he's given before. It's different from kneeling on the floor or sprawling on top of someone on the bed. At least that way, he's in charge. He can choose how deep he wants to take it, or how fast. But there's no leverage in this position, no way of easily pulling off, no way of controlling how the blowjob goes.

All he can do is trust in Wash.

"Ready?" Washington asks quietly. He strokes Tucker's throat until he gets a murmur of agreement, then bends down to kneel at his side, leaning in to press a kiss against Tucker's cheek. "If you need me to back off, just put your hand in the air."

Tucker nods.

"Like this," Washington says, taking Tucker's hand and lifting it high in the air, "So that everyone knows. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings."

"Got it."

"Me too," Kai says.

"Good." Washington stands up and positions himself over Tucker again, taking the proffered condom from Kai. He rolls it on under Tucker's too-close gaze before turning back to her. "Remember to give him a minute to adjust," he tells her, "It's not an easy—"

"I know," Kai agrees, "I got super dizzy the first time I tried that, but the girl I was giving a bj to said that happens sometimes 'cause of all the blood rushing to your head. It was kinda nice, though. I felt really floaty near the end."

Tucker's already starting to feel floaty, but it's not because of any blood rushing to his head. It's because of the way Kai shifts to straddle his thighs and the way Wash swallows hard before settling in. For years he was told he couldn't have this and tonight they're all here proving everybody wrong.

 _I love you,_ Tucker thinks, _I love you both_.

He licks his lips at the first touch against his mouth, his tongue briefly darting out to taste before swirling spirals around the slit. Wash stays stock still, content to wait for Tucker to adjust, patiently letting him have this moment before it's all stripped away in another few seconds.

"Tell me when," Wash says in a strained voice.

Tucker responds by seizing what little control he has to suck the tip into his mouth. It's hard on his neck like this—muscles already starting to ache—but he revels in the feeling anyway, pushing past the pain to hum his enjoyment.

And when he pulls off, he makes sure to say, "Now."

Wash sinks into him in increments. Tucker has to moan at the feel of it: at the touch of pressure at the back of his throat, the bland taste of latex on his tongue, the way spots flicker across his eyelids the longer he holds Washington in his mouth.

He concentrates on breathing through his nose for a couple of seconds, letting his jaw go slack as Wash begins to move his hips and finally fucks his face in earnest. Tucker swallows hard around the feeling, throat working and clenching tight around the dick in his mouth.

It feels good. It feels so fucking good, and Tucker has always loved this part: loved the fullness in his mouth and way people lose themselves in their pleasure. Loved everything about how powerful it makes him feel and just how out of control. But it's better now, better here, better with _Wash_ , and so Tucker gives himself over completely.

"I think he's ready."

And then Kai is sinking on top of him and suddenly it's so much more than he can take. He gasps around the cock in his mouth, hands moving frantically to Wash's thighs, yanking and tugging and relaxing his throat until Wash is buried deep inside of him like Tucker is Kai.

"Fuck," she hisses.

They're all connected, he thinks hazily, all moving together as one. The three of them, coming together like this. All the plans he made, all the talks he had, all the scheming and teasing and worried wondering—all of it led here. All of it led to this moment, to these _people_.

"Tucker," Wash gasps, "Kai, I—"

And if he gets nothing else for the rest of his life, he'll still be happy because he got this.

_I love you I love you I love you both._

 

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

Tucker gets the second best idea of his life approximately one day after Junior walks in on them.

He tells Kai about it while they're watching Washington installing a brand new lock on their door. "I'm just saying," he says earnestly, "It would be awesome. We'd get to do the same things we do already, but _all the time_."

Kai makes a face. "Yeah, so?"

"So just think about how much more we'd get to bang him if Wash were living here. We wouldn't be forced to sleep without him just because he had a long shift and was too tired to come over. And he wouldn't have to sneak out early or leave just because he ran out of clothes, so we'd get _way_ more morning sex than before."

"Plus," he adds when she still looks doubtful, "I bet he'd make us breakfast every morning if you gave him the puppy dog eyes.

Even that doesn't convince her entirely, but that's no surprise. She has all these issues with commitment and people moving in and out of her life. Something to do with her mom, he guesses, because they were dating for awhile before she agreed to live with him and only said yes after he promised not to leave.

But Wash isn't her mom. He wouldn't leave unless they ask him to.

Kai gnaws thoughtfully on her lower lip. "But he's already over here like twenty-four/seven," she points out, "So why do we have to change anything?

"Why did _we?_ " Tucker asks.

"Because you said you were sick of using condoms?"

Tucker blinks rapidly. "Oh yeah," he says. He remembers saying something like that. He also remembers that whole thing going out the window once they had their first pregnancy scare. "I was such a fucking idiot."

"Yuuup," Kai drawls.

"Uh-huh, you remember agreeing, right?"

Kai considers his words for a second, then shakes her head firmly. "But I'm used to being almost pregnant," she says with the kind of conviction that criminals wish the could fake, "So I don't count."

Kai-style logic at its finest: both self-serving and a little bit warped. Tucker decides to call that conversation a loss. "Alright," he says, "But there were other reasons we moved in together back then. Like, uh..." Shit, shit, he can't think of anything. "Like..."

"Like _nothing!_ "

Tucker opens his mouth to deny it. Because fuck, there had to be other reasons, right? Not love reasons of course—no, that came later—and not convenience or anything like that. But there had to be something. Something like...

"...crap, you're right."

They just kinda fell into this whole fake-married thing they have going on. Hell, for the first couple of years they weren't even officially dating. They just told everyone they were roommates who slept together a lot.

"Yuuup," she says again, popping the p in the most annoying way possible. He grimaces and she looks away, already bored by the conversation. A wide grin comes over her face when she looks over to where Wash is working. "Whoa, there's a porn star in our apartment."

Tucker's head snaps around so fast that he thinks he hears something crack. "What? Where?" he says stupidly, looking around as if some random person suddenly got wished into existence. But no, there's no one there but them and Wash, and Wash isn't...

Tucker grins in a way that can only be described as shit-eating. He wolf whistles, eyes trailing over the tight jeans, the hard muscles, and the toolbox at Washington's feet. Kai is right; all he needs is to take his shirt off and get all sweaty and Wash could be the star of any of their favorite films.

"Hey, Wash, need some help?" he says, leering openly, "I could hold your tool if you want. Bow chika bow wow!"

"Very mature," Washington says drily. But he looks over his shoulder and gives them a rueful smile, a quirk of the lips that becomes an outright laugh when she pulls out a couple of dollars. "You do realize I'm not a stripper, right?"

"Not without music," Tucker cracks. He hums to some tune he makes up on the spot, grinning wider when Wash actually plays along for once, his hands moving to the bottom of his shirt while they clap and hoot.

“Yeah, take it off!” Kai cheers wildly. She waves those bills in the air again, fanning them out to get attention that she already has. “Wooo baby, get over here and show Mama what you’re working with!”

“Mama’s already seen what I’m working with,” Washington points out, not that it stops him from whipping his shirt off and flinging it aside, sauntering over to stand by the couch. “Mama’s spent the last four months getting a very close look at it." He pauses, looking pained. "I'd like to stop saying mama now."

"Yeeaah," Tucker says, "It just sounds weird coming from you."

Kai and Washington nod their agreement. They all look at each other for a moment, silent until Kai gives Wash those puppy-dog eyes he was talking about earlier and asks, "So can I put dollar bills in your pants now?"

Wordlessly, he cocks his hips forward.

With a wiggle of joy, Kai moves to the edge of the cushion and lifts the money up yet again, this time moving it with purpose. She doesn't go straight for his pants like she made it sound, but trails them over his chest in a teasing way, steadily sliding downward until it comes to the band of his jeans. Slowly, she stuffs them in, grazing his dick in a way that makes Wash smirk.

"How much for a lap dance?" Tucker asks immediately.

Washington gives him a lazy smile. "Ask me when I'm done with the door," he says, and then saunters off again without so much as letting him get in a grope. In revenge, Tucker blatantly stares at his ass as he goes.

"Tucker?"

She sounds odd to his ears, weirdly serious—or no, not serious, but...solemn, maybe? Whatever it is makes her seem older than her age. "What's up?"

"Okay," Kai says.

He looks at her in confusion. "...okay?"

"Yeah, like _whatever_ , if you want him to move in with us I guess that's okay," Kai says, tossing her hair like it doesn’t matter, "I'm not gonna fight you or anything."

Tucker blinks hard. "Okay," he repeats, then barks a relieved laugh, smiling so hard his cheeks start hurting. "Awesome. That's...that's _awesome_."

"But he's not gonna say yes," Kai warns him, "He’s gonna make some stupid excuse and then I’m gonna have to watch you cry.” She frowns at him, then turns her gaze to Washington, back from the closet and conspicuously missing pants. Mysteriously, her frown disappears.

"Heh. Trust me," Tucker says, "I can handle this."

After all, he got them this far. What could go wrong?


End file.
